


Royals

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian AU, Panic Attack, Princess AU, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, accidental powerless vibes???, mild implied homophobia, mild violence, minor original characters, pining longing etc, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-11-28 10:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20965352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Brooke and Vanessa are two princesses that hate each other, forced to spend time together when their arguments get out of control, all while an unknown threat looms.(An enemies to friends to lovers slow burn with some mildGame of Thrones-style riggery)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had this in planning for a while now, and I'm excited to finally start publishing! A MAJOR thank you to @writworm42 for being the first to hear about this and letting me throw ideas at you, for thinking this could actually work, and for beta-ing! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit more like an introduction, and I would really appreciate any feedback you have and seeing whether you're interested in this!

“I don’t understand why we have to leave now when the wedding isn’t for another month,” Vanessa huffs to her parents for the third time today. 

Her mother sighs. “Because we’re drafting a new alliance document that’s very-”

“Important, I know. But a whole month up there? We’ll probably freeze to death before the thing even gets written.”

“I know it isn’t ideal, honey, but this could be fun for you, you know? New places to explore, new people. I know it’s been difficult for you here, after…” she stops, knowing better than to say it in front of Vanessa. “You can make some new experiences for yourself,” her mother finishes brightly.

“I guess,” Vanessa mumbles, handing her last two trunks to her personal attendants, Silky and A’keria, both of them her age and more like friends than attendants. 

It _will_ be nice to see the north and the villages around the kingdom that she’s only seen on maps, selling hot drinks and sweet rolls and shiny jewelry. But for a whole month she has to put up with the Ice Princess, with her perfect blonde hair and perfect cream skin and perfect dresses. Vanessa has been hearing about Brooke and how perfect she is for years— that she spends every minute reading and reviewing council plans, that she had tutors from all over the country instruct her as a child, that she hasn’t missed an archery target in years. Then there’s the Ice Princess’s perfect wedding itself, which Vanessa’s sure will be so extravagant she might throw up.

She follows after her mother to the carriage, getting ready for the two-day journey.

\---

The trip feels like two weeks as they move north, flowers dying and air chilling right before her eyes. Everything out the carriage window is an endless sheet of gray dotted with barren trees. It doesn’t look like anything could possibly survive out there, and this trip is feeling more and more like a death march. Vanessa shivers even in the winter cloak she got for the trip.

The castle of House Hytes appears in front of her, all sharp white stone with ice-blue accents. The whole castle seems like it’s judging her, looking down on her sun-warmed face and laughing at how she doesn't belong here. There’s a deep green woods behind it and a stone path to the side leading to the village. Vanessa can already tell she’ll freeze inside those stone walls, unlike her own southern castle that was warm day and night. A home, where she could run without shoes and knew which doors creaked and which ones didn’t. Vanessa knows this one will never feel like home. 

The royal family is waiting in the courtyard when they arrive, and she’s the first thing Vanessa sees when she unfurls her body from the carriage seat. 

Long blonde hair braided on top and falling to her back, green eyes that looked hard enough to break iron, fixed above Vanessa’s head, like Brooke is too good to even look at her. A bright blue dress flowing down her long frame like rippling ocean waves. Her posture is so perfect it makes her seem even taller, and Vanessa feels like a mouse in comparison. 

Her mother and father rattle off the greetings to the king and queen of the north, who both have faces like something smells bad around them, and Vanessa stretches her back to look as tall as she can. 

They get to her titles and Vanessa curtsies as she’s been taught, addressing each of the family clearly. 

Brooke introduces herself, curtsy too graceful to even be human, delivering a smile that appears to be causing her pain and does nothing to ease her steely eyes. 

This is going to be a long month. 

\---

“Why do they have to come so early?” Brooke groans. 

“Because we’re drafting an alliance and now is the best time to do it,” her father explains with a sigh. “This is extremely important for the family and the whole country. I trust you know what’s expected of you. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Yes, Father.” 

“That’s also the second time you’ve asked. I don’t think there will be a third, do you?”

“No, Father.”

“And sit up straight.”

Brooke obeys, ignoring the ache spreading down her back, muscles protesting after yet another sleepless night. 

Tomorrow there will be strangers in her castle, sleeping down the hall from her, eating where she eats, and talking to her when she didn’t want to talk. Her skin prickles just thinking about them watching her eat, watching her walk, hanging on her every word, waiting for her to make a mistake. 

Except she doesn’t make mistakes. Can’t make mistakes. 

Brooke pushes away her half-eaten breakfast. 

“Thomas will be back soon,” her mother attempts to change the mood.

Brooke nods, eyes never leaving her lap, remembering too late that she’s supposed to be excited about that. 

\---

Brooke spends the next day hunched over her desk, memorizing the events for the upcoming month. The words swim in front of her. There would be meals with the Mateos every day, a welcome feast tomorrow night, several meetings, and a large feast before the wedding. The worries pop in every corner of her mind and she pushes them down to her stomach, anchoring them beside the small breakfast she forced herself to eat that’s turned to lead. She is Brooke Lynn of House Hytes. She knows what’s expected of her. 

The sun arcs through the sky without her notice until her attendant, Plastique, comes to get her ready for the royal arrival. Brooke steps into the itchy blue dress and prepares herself. She is a proper princess. Not like the southern one, Vanessa, who the people call the Sun Princess. Brooke hears she goes into the city every day and talks to commoners, that she'd even gotten into a fight with one last year, that she runs wild throughout the castle and causes tutors to quit because of her disregard for royal behavior. And now Brooke has to spend an entire month with her and her recklessness and disrespect. 

She follows behind her parents and stands with her spine straight as an arrow. She stares at the trees, the repetitive green helping her avoid the eye contact that would make her knees quiver and make her forget the greetings circling in her head. She delivers them without a stumble, bending into a curtsy that makes her father nod, and she shouldn’t be relieved over his approval but she is. 

It’s not until she stands back up that she gets a good look at Vanessa. She wears an emerald dress under her bulky cloak. Her hair is braided, loose strands framing her round face, and she sneers at the castle. She’s puffing out her chest and Brooke thinks she’s trying to look bigger, but she just resembles a strange bird. In the brief peek at her eyes that Brooke can manage, she sees the brown alight with rage. 

Brooke forces her lips to assume their polite princess smile, and Vanessa returns one that seems painted on. 

This is going to be a long month. 

\---

A man slips through the village cloaked in midnight. He sends a letter to his correspondent. 

_They have arrived. Plan is now in motion_.


	2. For the High Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa deals with the start of her time in the north

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback and interest on Chapter 1! Things get going a little more in this chapter, and I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much to writ for beta-ing, your comments on this chapter made me cackle and you're just awesome.  
Chapter title from Love song by Lana del Rey because that song has me way too emotional.  
I would really appreciate any feedback and comments, they really do mean a lot to me!

It seems that all people do in the north is freeze. 

Vanessa had gone to bed freezing, smothered in blankets to stop her teeth chattering, fire crackling in her room, and wakes up still freezing, fire reduced to ash.

Even the breakfast is cold, and Vanessa chews on bacon with a grumble. 

“Is the food alright?” 

And there’s Princess Perfect, asking how she’s doing like she cares. It’s barely morning and Brooke doesn’t have a hair out of place. Even the purplish shadows under her eyes can’t distract from her imposing figure, looming over Vanessa across a table set for the two of them.

“Yes,” Vanessa replies acidly. “Just a little cold.”

“My apologies. It was hot an hour ago. Nina probably thought you’d be awake when I was; I’m an early riser,” Brooke says quietly, her plate already cleared. _Of course you are_, Vanessa thinks. Brooke probably woke up before sunrise to prepare for royal council meetings. “I could ask her to bring a fresh breakfast if you’d like,” Brooke offers. 

Vanessa would rather eat _raw_ bacon than give Brooke the satisfaction, and her crunches are the only sound in the pristine white room.

Brooke clears her throat. “We have a meeting with our parents after breakfast,” she informs Vanessa. Brooke’s voice is one of a fully-grown queen, not a 19-year-old princess. She had probably spewed proper speech from her cradle.

“I know.”

“Did you have any trouble with the schedule?” 

Her tone is firm, but all of Brooke’s words are slow, measured, weighing every vowel like she thinks Vanessa can’t understand her. Her parents probably ordered her to be nice. Obviously it’s taking a lot of effort, judging from how her perfect nails dig into her palms. 

“I can read, so, no, I didn’t.” Brooke has no doubt heard that Vanessa didn’t make royal lessons a priority. She had powered her way through most of them, but what good are lessons when there’s a whole world to explore? A world that teaches more lessons than any royal tutor could, though not always good ones. 

Brooke’s head bends over a book and Vanessa slurps on hand-squeezed orange juice for as long as her breath allows. 

Brooke still won’t even meet her eyes and it’s just what Vanessa expected. Brooke’s family is one of the oldest and richest royal lines in the country. This sort of superiority ran in her blood like snow through the mountain passes. Vanessa is just a pawn to them, her whole family just pawns to build this stupid alliance. Even Brooke’s cold politeness is probably a way for her to get something, and her family expects Vanessa to lay herself right in their hands.

Well, if they think she’s just a piece to move around at their whim, they’re going to cut their hands on her. 

\---

The meeting is a review of the schedule; all the alliance talks, the feasts, and the wedding. All things Vanessa’s been told for weeks. As the meeting drags on, her eyes travel around the council hall, looking at the rich tapestries of snow-capped mountains and deep green woods, the only color against boring white walls. King Richard’s voice saws at her ears, explaining each item like she’s three years old. Brooke is across from her, eyes trained on the list of events, though Vanessa is sure she has them memorized. 

Finally, all the royal staff are brought in. The only one that stands out to Vanessa is Nina, the head chef and the sole person that looks genuinely kind. No matter what the king and queen say about asking the royal staff for anything, wanting Vanessa and her family to feel like they’re in their own castle, the staff are here to serve Brooke and her family. They are not her friends, and if there’s ever any trouble, they will take Brooke’s side. Vanessa knows this, knows all too well what it’s like to answer someone’s every call, give them anything they could possibly want. How everything inside you became secondary--how _you_ became secondary--to the wishes of someone else. 

Except in her case, she had thought it was love. 

\---

They’re free after the meeting, and Vanessa can’t spend another second in her room. It’s a nice room, she’ll admit, with a soft bed, an oak desk, and a long, padded bench by the window overlooking the forest, but there’s an entire castle just waiting. Brooke’s room is down the hall, and Vanessa can hear pacing and the rustling of pages as she passes, figuring Brooke will stay there for a while and she can have the remains of the morning uninterrupted. 

The castle walls are uninterrupted white stone, and Vanessa knows her initial thought was right: this place is not a home. Her castle in the south is made of gold sandstone that catches the sunlight and reflects its warmth back at her. The walls feel secure, but cozy, like a blanket around her shoulders. Her castle had sheltered her especially in the past year, holding all her secrets and teary nights inside its walls. The walls here are just bare and empty, and the secrets they hold are not hers. 

She ends up in a room of what she figures are family portraits. Brooke’s is at the end, just after her parents. She stands rigid, mouth a straight line, eyes expressionless, and it’s so accurate Vanessa wonders if the artist was excellent or if Brooke is so stiff in real life that she’s like a walking portrait. Probably the latter. 

The portrait is missing that razor-thin scar above Brooke’s lip, though. On the real Brooke, it’s just a small blemish, a tiny sliver of imperfection on her pale skin, so small you’d miss it unless you searched for it. (So what if she’s stared at Brooke a little? She’s just sizing up an enemy).

“You’re going to be late for lunch.”

Vanessa grabs at her heart. “I’m going to be late for a lot of things if you give me a heart attack creeping around like that.” She mumbles as Brooke enters the room, her shoes silent on the floor. 

“Sorry.” Brooke pulls up next to her and stares at her own portrait. “I’m supposed to get you for lunch. Your attendants said you went exploring. We don’t typically allow visitors in here unattended.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here, which is something I never thought I’d say and probably never will again,” Vanessa replies. “I bet you come in here all the time to stare at yourself.”

The corner of Brooke’s mouth twitches, and for a second Vanessa thinks she might smile, but her lips remain in their firm line. “I actually hate that thing, to tell you the truth.”

“Why, not pretty enough for you?”

“It seems to be pretty enough for _you_,” Brooke retorts. “You haven’t taken your eyes off it.” 

“Just thinking about how it would be more accurate if they carved you out of stone.”

Brooke squares her shoulders. “We’re going to be late for lunch. You can break rules your first day here if you like. I’m not getting in trouble for you.”

She turns on her heel and is down the hall before Vanessa leaves the room.

\---

“‘I’m not getting in trouble for you,’” Vanessa mimics in a high-pitched whine as Silky and A’keria get her hair braided for the welcome feast. “And she _still_ won’t even look at me! Who does she think she is, acting so superior?”

“Maybe she’s afraid of you. Or maybe she’s jealous,” A’keria offers. 

“Why would she be jealous of me? She has everything.” She doesn’t address the idea that Brooke is afraid of her. It seems too ridiculous to even consider. 

“Well, you’re two years younger than her, and you’re beautiful,” Silky cuts in. “Maybe she thinks you’ll steal her man.”

“A man is the absolute _last_ thing I want,” Vanessa argues, pulling on her red velvet dress with gold swirls. The thick material and long sleeves weigh her down, another reminder how far she is from the southern sun, where short-sleeved dresses flowed in the wind year-round. She reaches instinctively for her sun necklace, only to meet bare skin and painful memory. She’s never wished for it more than tonight.

“She doesn’t know that, though,” A’keria insists. “Everything that happened last year never--”

“Do _not_ talk about last year.”

They both nod, and Silky hands Vanessa her tiara, because apparently the king decided a welcome feast requires everyone to show off their crowns. It’s hard not to feel stronger wearing it, like she could get away with anything, which she has done before. No matter how superior Brooke thinks she is, Vanessa is a princess too. She nestles it among her braids and prepares herself for another meal with the Ice Princess.

\---

Brooke is a perfect princess at dinner. She is the example Vanessa’s exasperated tutors would have used when instructing Vanessa how to act; she addresses everyone in a clear voice, bestows compliments like it’s a genuine pleasure for her, has an eloquent answer to every question. She finds herself tracking Brooke’s every movement, waiting for a stutter or stumble or some sign that she’s _human_. 

And then Thomas arrives. Thomas, the prince Brooke is going to marry. He has dark hair and a big nose, and though he’s not _ugly_, he’s much too average for someone as exquisite as Brooke, a silver dress hugging her long frame, a silver tiara with delicate tear-drop crystals at the points perched on her blonde head, like it’s meant to be there. Vanessa pushes her own gold-flowered tiara up a little higher. 

“Vanessa, this is Thomas. My fiancé,” Brooke introduces, and Vanessa detects a quiver in her voice. 

“Pleased to have you here,” Thomas says after a bow. “I pushed hard for the alliance, you know. Wanted to have you and your family here, get to see the beautiful north.” He continues to ramble about how important this is for everyone, and Vanessa’s thoughts drift to Thomas’s hand wrapped tightly around Brooke’s, and the sweat dampening Brooke’s fingers. She stares straight ahead, obviously disinterested, and jerks him away to meet someone else when he’s done speaking. 

Vanessa’s seen it before. People often didn’t take kindly to a woman ruling by herself. It was likely Brooke’s family had gotten Thomas to marry her so she became more appealing to the common folk. Thomas is just another piece on Brooke’s board, then. She didn’t need him; she would still be queen regardless. But if she wanted people to see her as anything but an unlovable queen who couldn’t even marry, then she did need him. It’s hard to be a woman, let alone a woman in royalty, these days; Vanessa has always known that, and if Brooke didn’t seem so cold and emotionless, Vanessa might have felt sorry for her. 

\---

The best part of the feast--what Vanessa knows will be the best part of the whole month--is the food. Nina can _cook_. 

Gleaming silver plates are brought out by the royal kitchen staff, and the rich smells fill the entire grand hall. Vanessa looks down at steaming roast beef, glazed carrots, and crispy potatoes, her mouth already watering. She forgets her annoyance at being seated next to Brooke, balling her hands into fists to stop herself from eating before everyone is served. 

Nina sets a plate gently in front of Brooke--the only one to get a plate personally from her. Nina smiles at her, and Brooke returns the only real smile Vanessa has seen, a shy one that softens her face, whispering something into Nina’s ear.

Vanessa notices Brooke’s plate is missing the carrots. _The chef brought her plate out because Brooke didn’t eat carrots?_ A’keria is clearly wrong. How could Brooke be jealous of her when she had dinner hand-delivered by the chef?

Vanessa stabs at her roast beef like it’s Brooke’s face, juicy flavor exploding in her mouth. The entire meal, and the rich chocolate cakes for dessert, can almost entirely block Brooke out of Vanessa’s mind. 

\---

Vanessa’s feet are screaming in her shoes when the feast finally ends. She rushes up the stairs, whipping out of sight and ripping the heels off. The cold floor is a relief for once. 

“Did you enjoy the feast?”

Vanessa jumps. She’ll never understand how Brooke moves so silently, disappearing like she’s part of the wall. She should wear a bell around her neck. 

“Oh, sure. Maybe more if I had some of the accommodations you have,” Vanessa replies, stopping in front of her room. She’s not sure why she’s so upset. Brooke is a princess; why wouldn’t she get everything she wants? But something about it makes her blood boil. Maybe how everyone helped Brooke like it was an honor, when she clearly didn’t care about anyone but herself. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Does the cook always bring you your food?”

Her eyes narrow in understanding. “Carrots make my stomach hurt,” Brooke says quietly. “Nina just wanted to make sure I got the right plate.”

“Well-”

“Vanessa, please tell me what this is about. I don’t think it’s to complain about food, because you damn near licked your plate clean.” Vanessa is pleased to see there is some emotion in Brooke, her voice growing sharper, pointed enough to cut if Vanessa was soft. But she’s not soft. 

Her shoes crash to the floor. She lifts herself up to meet Brooke’s eyes, anger rising as Brooke glances down at her feet. “This is about you being a perfect little princess getting everything you want and acting like the rest of us don’t matter! Everyone does everything for you and you can’t even look them in the eye, not even your own fiancé! Tell me, how much is your family paying Thomas to marry you? Because all the gold in the world couldn’t be enough to put up with you!”

She knows she’s gone too far but she can’t take it back now. She also knows she’s not wrong. She saw the way Brooke leaned away from man she’s going to marry, the way her hand wanted to escape from his grasp. He’s just another disposable piece to her. 

What little color Brooke’s fair skin has drains away, turning as white as the snow on the mountains. She pulls her lip between her teeth and chews furiously. For the first time, her eyes meet Vanessa’s, and the cold green burns a hole through her as Brooke opens her mouth, voice sharp as a sword-point.

“Don’t you dare talk to me ever again.”

Vanessa enters her room and slams the door so hard the frame shakes, blocking out Brooke’s graceful walk to her own room.

She falls asleep to thoughts of revenge.

\---

“Do you have my first payment?” the man asks his correspondent in the village pub.

“Absolutely,” the correspondent replies, passing over a bag of gold. “You demand a high price, I’ll admit, but it will all be worth it in the end. You’ll receive double this on completion as well. As long as you don’t miss, of course.”

“Don’t worry.” The man runs his hand over the gold. “I never miss.”


	3. Dream a Dream, Here's a Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Vanessa got off to a rough start with Brooke  
Now: Their issues continue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that's still reading! Your feedback has been amazing and I would really appreciate some more on this chapter! Chapter title from Love song by Lana del Rey. Thank you to writ for beta-ing, you're amazing and I appreciate you so much.  
*This chapter does have the start of an unhealthy relationship that continues through the fic, so please be cautious.*

Brooke slips out of her dress, wishing she could get Vanessa out of her castle as easy as removing clothes. Just who does Vanessa think she is anyway, walking around with her lips pulled into a sneer, acting like life was one giant party, disrespecting Brooke for acting properly, the way Vanessa herself ought to act? Vanessa doesn’t deserve her position, hardly even deserves the space she’s been occupying in Brooke’s mind since the feast, where she ate chocolate cake so fast Brooke thought she might get sucked inside Vanessa’s giant mouth along with it. 

The blessed quiet of her room comforts her, a relief to her pounding head after so much talking, so many introductions and endless questions. She talked more at one feast than she often did for days, and they sometimes emptied her of words for the rest of the week. 

A knock on her door interrupts the quiet. If that damn Sun Princess is back again...Brooke pulls her silk robe closed and opens the door, her back straightened and head raised of their own accord. 

It’s Thomas, a frown of disapproval on his face. He’s possibly the only person she wants to see _less_ than Vanessa, not that anyone knows that. Though Vanessa had come close to figuring it out, and Brooke knows that can’t happen again. 

“Did I hear yelling?” he inquires. 

“No,” she lies, deciding that anything going on between her and Vanessa should stay private. “Maybe you just heard something outside?”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, and she knows he’s already moved on from any feigned concern over her well-being. “I’m glad you’ve taken that silver off. It’s a horrible color on you. And you better sleep tonight. We have a lot of events coming up, and those bags under your eyes are unsightly.”

Brooke nods, and Thomas heads to his room in a separate wing of the castle. 

Not for the first time, Brooke releases a grateful sigh that it’s improper to share a bed with Thomas before the wedding. One month, and then this room wouldn’t be hers anymore…_no_. She can’t think about that tonight. This room is the only space she’s had since she was a child crying under her blankets, the only space where she could just lay in bed with the steadying weight of a book in her hands, the only space where her skin didn’t crawl with people’s stares and her head could droop without consequence. 

Her shaky hands undo the clasp on her necklace. She has to do better. She has to _be_ better. Vanessa has already figured out more than she should. Vanessa knows her and Thomas aren’t as perfect as they’re supposed to be, though she wasn’t entirely correct on the payment--gold had changed hands both ways. She even noticed Brooke’s struggles with eye contact. 

Eyes have always given Brooke trouble. She could speak like she’s supposed to, listen to other leaders like she’s supposed to, but no matter how many times her father scolds her for it, she just couldn’t look them in the eyes. It makes her too vulnerable, too exposed, like the second someone peers into her eyes they would know every deep, dark secret--and Brooke has a few--inside her. They’d see that she isn’t good enough. That she never will be good enough. 

She has to fix things with Vanessa. Brooke is a princess, and she knows her duty. Any small disagreement is magnified now, and it could ruin her parents’ relationship with the Mateos, or destroy the alliance, and it would all be her fault, and--pain bursts in her chest, her heart racing like it’s trying to escape her body. It’s been happening more and more now. She sinks into her bed and sighs, praying the whole night for sleep she doesn’t get. 

\---

Her stomach is churning the next morning, hoping her apology to Vanessa will be adequate and wishing she had asked Nina for advice, when a flash of white off the dark floor forces her to the side before she steps in the yellow egg yolks running down her door.

As much as she wants to get Vanessa back, maybe by throwing a snowball at her face, she knows the act would not tolerated by her parents. She can’t sink as low as Vanessa; she is better than that. 

The mess has to be her responsibility. Her father would disagree, tell her something like this is not her job, but she can’t risk anyone else getting involved. She hopes no one sees her like this, cleaning up rather than commanding like she’s supposed to.The motion of her cloth against the door is actually soothing, the mess fading under her hands satisfying, though she knows a princess shouldn’t enjoy household chores. 

Brooke scoops up the shells and knocks on Vanessa’s door. She answers with a smug grin, not even playing innocent over what she’s done, and all of Brooke’s carefully contained emotions, every ounce of her control, explode when Vanessa raises an eyebrow, just begging her to say something. She lets her hand fall, shells settling around Vanessa’s feet. “I think you dropped these.”

Watching Vanessa’s grin die out and her lips open in surprise is an image Brooke could stare at for the rest of her life.

Brooke plows on before Vanessa can interrupt her, “What exactly is your problem with me? I have treated you with the respect I extend to all guests, which is more than you deserve, I might add-”

“Yes, a guest! You’re treating me like one of your subjects! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a princess too! Stop hiding behind your crown and act like a person to me!”

Had _Brooke treated her wrongly? Had she_\-- the rest of her thought bursts as Vanessa’s other words sink in. 

“You think you don’t hide behind your crown?” Brooke challenges, rage coursing through her. She knows she’s right. News had spread to the north of fights the Sun Princess had charmed her way out of last year. She thinks of how Vanessa tosses the rules aside and blurts anything that pops into her head. How she struts around, her head held high, the tiara just an accessory rather than the pillar it is to Brooke. What must it be like, to be so carefree, to not worry all the time--

“I do not!” Vanessa’s voice is defiant, but her face is paling, eyes widening. Brooke observes how close they’ve gotten in the past minute, Vanessa’s feet grazing her own, chests almost touching. 

“Yes, you do.” Brooke’s voice chills even her own skin. “You act like you hate everything, like you hate the whole idea of being a princess, but you love doing whatever you want! Would you have thrown those eggs if you knew you couldn’t get away with it? If you weren’t a princess, do you think you would’ve gotten out of all that trouble last year?”

“What did you hear about last year?” Her hands clamp on Brooke’s arms, her eyes roam Brooke’s face for an answer, and Vanessa’s not angry anymore. She’s scared. Whatever happened last year, she doesn’t want Brooke to know about it, and Brooke is unsure what to do with this. It’s a clear advantage over Vanessa, a point of weakness Brooke can use. But at the same time, that fear in Vanessa’s eyes makes Brooke’s heart ache in a way she doesn’t understand, in a way she’s never felt before. 

“I just-”

“What is the meaning of this yelling?”

Vanessa removes her hands and their heads jerk to the stairs. 

Both their parents stand in the hall, Brooke’s father flashing a scowl, and her whole face burns with shame. Her shoulders want to curve in but she knows she has to keep her posture. She wishes the floor would open up and consume her before she has to hear her father tell her she’s an embarrassment.

The hall is washed in silence so deep she could hear a pin drop. She and Vanessa lock in a staredown, begging the other to make the first move as Brooke’s palms start sweating. 

“Someone is going to answer me,” the king commands.

“Please, we just had a small disagreement. It was my fault. It was foolish,” Vanessa offers before Brooke can bite out a reply. 

_Vanessa’s lying for her?_ Brooke knows this kindness will cost her something within the next month. Besides Nina, no one has ever protected her or done something nice for her simply because they wanted to. Compliments and gifts given to her from lords and ladies came with the expectation of recognition from the king. Even Brooke’s guards receive payment for their services, and she has no doubt they’d turn on her if offered more gold than her father gives. Kindness always has a price. 

“Vanessa, you know you have to control your temper.” Vanessa’s mother, Queen Alexis, begins. 

“I know.”

Brooke’s father starts again. “You have embarrassed and disappointed me, Brooke. You know what’s expected of you.”

His words are almost enough to knock her over, and Brooke would cry if she allowed herself to, but that isn’t the worst part. The worst part is Vanessa’s gaze burning into her. Now she’ll know. She’ll know Brooke isn’t good enough and that’s one more thing Vanessa has over her and can gloat about.

“I know, Father. I’m sorry.”

“We were discussing this last night,” the king continues. “We know you two have had problems adjusting to each other. We’re building a new alliance here, and you two need to get along. So we’ve agreed that, from now on, you’ll be spending time together. When you don’t need to be in meetings, you can visit the villages, or stay here, but you must do it together. It is expected that you act cordially with each other. I don’t want any more of this yelling. Do I make myself clear?”

Brooke knows better than to argue, even though she’s sure an entire four weeks with Vanessa followed by a wedding to Thomas will be the single most miserable month in the history of the world. But she remains silent; nothing could change her father’s mind once it was made up. Vanessa, though, looks ready to throw a punch, and she’s positive that Vanessa would launch herself at the king if Queen Alexis didn’t give her a warning look. 

“Yes, Father.”

Vanessa murmurs her agreement. The second they’re alone again, she pounces on Brooke.

“Tell me what you know about last year,” Vanessa demands. If this is the price Vanessa is asking for her protection, Brooke is willing to pay it. 

“Just that you got into a fight in your village and used your power to get out of it.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes,” Brooke says honestly. Her eyes narrow. “Why, do you have a secret?”

“That’s none of your business. And I have a feeling I’m not the only one around here with secrets.”

\---

“I have to spend the whole month with her! And she hates me!” Brooke complains to Nina. The kitchen had been her first stop after her father’s announcement, Nina always ready with a cup of tea and a listening ear. She had been hired as the cook just before Brooke was born, and Brooke didn’t know a life without Nina to talk to and laugh with. 

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” Nina consoles as she passes Brooke a piece of bread fresh from the oven. 

“Believe me, she does.”

_Not that I haven’t given her reason to_, Brooke thinks. Vanessa hadn’t liked her from the start, that was true, but Brooke just made things worse. She’s heard good and bad rumors about Vanessa, the good ones claiming Vanessa is warm and friendly and cares about her kingdom. Brooke hasn’t seen any of those traits here, and it’s probably her fault. She knows history and writing and literature and royal finances, but none of her lessons had ever taught her how to make someone like her. She just behaved like she was supposed to and waited for an insincere interaction to follow. Obviously she had done something wrong, said the wrong thing, to make Vanessa hate her. She hasn’t done what her father had asked, hasn’t been welcoming enough. Hasn’t been able to get Vanessa’s support, support that would be needed for the future of the alliance, when she and Vanessa took their thrones. 

She had failed.

“Well, maybe this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” Nina’s optimism cuts through her spiral. “I know there’s not any girls your age around, and maybe you could open up a little, make a friend?”

Brooke shrugs. Aside from Nina, who is twice her age, Brooke’s never had anyone even remotely resembling a friend. She’s not entirely sure what she’d do with one--she can’t imagine someone shopping in the village with her, eating lunch with her, talking about things besides royal business, being by her side all day, and Vanessa would be her absolute last choice. But it’s her father’s order, and she can’t disappoint him again, the shame of this morning still burning in her. And though Brooke won’t (_can’t_) admit it, spending a day with Vanessa on the king’s command keeps her from seeing Thomas until dinner--not that he really wants to see her either. 

She excuses herself to her room and paces the floor. The silence that had been so comforting last night is thick and heavy now in the absence of the morning’s yelling, and it almost chokes her.

Tomorrow, she has to go into the village with Vanessa. She remembers going as a child, holding Nina’s hand because her parents had the kingdom to run, eating all the chocolate she could hold and stroking the fancy feather quills in one of the shops. She wonders if the stores are still there. She hasn’t walked those cobbled streets in months, her lessons and studying taking precedence. 

Tomorrow, she would fix things. If her father wanted her to make friends with Vanessa, she would do it. She couldn’t jeopardize her father’s place on the throne, the throne that would one day be hers. She will get Vanessa to support her, keep both their families happy. She will force herself to be civil, to listen when Vanessa speaks, and to hold in all insults. She will ignore the uncomfortable ache in her chest when she looks at Vanessa. 

She won’t fail again. 

\---

The man slips through the village to meet his correspondent. 

“You received the weapon today?” the correspondent asks.

“Yes,” the man replies. 

“Good. Start observing your target and get practicing. We only have a month.”


	4. I'm A Star and I'm Burnin' Through You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke and Vanessa had another argument that led to them being forced to spend time together  
Now: They begin their first day together, and discover some similarities between them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that's read and left feedback! B and V are getting closer in this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy! A thousand thank you's to Writ for betaing, you're absolutely awesome! Your comments mean so much to me, and I would really appreciate it if you leave some for this chapter!
> 
> Chapter title from Love song by Lana Del Rey

In hindsight, the eggs were probably a step too far. 

But this ‘spend a month with Brooke’ plan sounds exactly like something her mother would dream up, and it most likely would have happened even without throwing eggs at Brooke’s door. 

They had definitely moved it along, though. 

Hopefully Brooke knows she’s not to be messed with now, and won’t try to murder her in retaliation. Just because she didn’t follow rules as intensely as Brooke, or turn rigid as a soldier around her parents--she noticed Brooke do that this morning, there’s _definitely_ some secrets in the Hytes castle--didn’t mean she wasn’t a good princess. Since when did following rules and doing well in lessons become the only qualifications of worth anyway? Though throwing eggs definitely wasn’t on the list, either.

Vanessa has always known she’s lovable, grins and handshakes and agreements blooming where she tred. She’s won over lords and ladies, princes and princesses. Her parents said she could walk into a room and have people on her side in minutes. So why couldn’t she act that way towards Brooke? Vanessa had fun skirting the rules for all they were worth, but what about Brooke made her take it to the point of throwing eggs? She thinks back to their interactions, trying to picture them clearly this time, not tinged with hatred. Brooke has been polite to her, if a little cold and condescending, but she probably didn’t deserve what Vanessa had done. She had overreacted. Again. It’s been a problem the past year—overreacting, letting her temper take control, not knowing when to stop acting out. Maybe she can be nicer tomorrow, turn on some of her charm. She knows the alliance is important to her parents, and she doesn’t want Brooke and her family angry at them. Besides, the month will only be even worse if she and Brooke aren’t on speaking terms. 

Her thoughts are pierced by howling outside her window that chills Vanessa to the bone. Inside this creepy castle, where it already feels like the walls watch her, she can’t be sure the howls don’t sound like her name. 

Great. Not only does she have to worry about Brooke poisoning her breakfast, but there’s also a chance she might get eaten by wolves. They probably wouldn’t even find her body out in the woods. 

She rolls over in bed and sighs. This damn wedding couldn’t come fast enough. 

\---

Vanessa pulls on her favorite dress, gold swirling around her like the sun’s rays. If she has to spend an entire day with Brooke, she’s at least going to look good while she does it. She always wore her sun necklace with it, but that’s long gone now. 

A knock at the door signals the start of the day’s suffering. 

Brooke stares at Vanessa’s dress so long it’s like she’s trying to find the individual fibers in it. Vanessa’s cheeks burn as Brooke’s eyes take her in; it’s probably just anger. “You can’t go out there like that,” Brooke says, matter-of-fact, and all thoughts of being nice fly out the window. 

The heat in her cheeks spreads to her whole body. “Now you’re telling me how I can dress? It’s bad enough I have to spend the day with you. I’m wearing what I want.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just...if you go out there obviously dressed like royalty, people might not be happy to see you.”

That’s not something she had considered, admittedly. She gave up on pretending to be someone else last year and flaunted around the city square in fancy dresses, not caring who saw her. People were always excited to see her, talking and smiling with her, telling her their stories. Figures that can’t happen in the north. This is the place where joy comes to die. 

She can tell Brooke is serious--who is she kidding? Brooke is _always_ serious. Vanessa thinks her whole face might crack if she were to smile. But there’s _something_\--maybe an ounce of fear that passes across her face before it resumes its steely mask so quickly Vanessa might have imagined it--that makes her think she should listen, that Brooke knows what it’s like to have people unhappy at her presence. 

“Fine. Do you need to watch me change?” 

Brooke leaves and Vanessa exchanges the gold dress for a dull gray one, pulling her black winter cloak tight over herself. She can’t say they don’t fit her mood. 

“Let’s get this misery over with,” she brushes past Brooke. 

\---

The village is a few minutes’ walk down the road, and it’s nothing like the bustling village home. The cobbled streets are a dusty gray brushed over by people with scowls plastered on their faces and eyes staring icily. Everyone seems hunched over, like the same force keeping their lips downturned is also dragging them toward the ground. It’s much quieter than her village; no children laughing or merchants chatting with customers. Two guards dressed in regular clothing trail a few feet behind them. 

“Why did guards have to come with us? I thought no one is supposed to know who we are.”

“Well, not all of us parade around and fight people without guards--”

“I could handle myself,” Vanessa insists. She doesn’t bother telling Brooke that she wasn’t even the one to get in those fights. “Obviously you can’t take two steps from your door without someone watching you. Do you faint like an old lady or something--”

“It’s my father’s orders. They come in normal clothes and no one notices. It’s for our safety,” Brooke informs her, leaving no room for argument. “Look, I don’t like them any more than you do. I wish I could do one thing without people watching me.”

She’s about to retort that Brooke probably loved having people watch how perfect she is, but something holds her back. Brooke is less steel and more silk today, bags under her eyes dulling some of her sharpness. Maybe Brooke is just pretending to be nice, trying to talk normally to her, but maybe she really does mean it. And maybe Vanessa should do more to make this work and keep her parents happy. Either way, Vanessa understands, and she nods in agreement. 

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even take a bath in peace.”

“Yes,” Brooke agrees, nodding fiercely. 

“It’s like you can’t just be you. Nothing you do is your own. There’s always something else involved.” It’s a feeling she was born into, royal rules and standards dictating a lot of her life, but it didn’t settle into her bones and cloud her mind, didn’t really squeeze her like a vise, until last year.

Brooke doesn’t speak, but her eyes are deep with knowing, and it occurs to Vanessa that she’s probably the only other person who can understand something like that. 

Any further connection is interrupted by a woman swinging her basket in rage after leaving a butcher shop, almost beheading Vanessa. Another miserable northerner with a scowl, eyes on the ground rather than the light blue sky above.

“Is there a law against smiling here?” Vanessa demands.

Brooke shrugs. “It’s not a common practice. People mostly keep to themselves.”

“Well, I’m hungry,” Vanessa whines. “Do they have lunch in the village, or is that not a common practice either?”

And she swears, just for a second, that Brooke’s lips quirk up into a half-smile. 

\---

Brooke doesn’t talk freely; Vanessa discovers that their second day, as they chew roasted chicken sandwiches for lunch in a silence that makes her restless, but she answers questions like they’re in a lesson and she’s receiving marks for her responses. 

When Vanessa’s voice grows hoarse after a day of rambling to fill the silence, she asks Brooke questions about the north and its villages. Brooke gives her answers like a human history book, and Vanessa is back in lessons all over again. 

“Alright, let’s talk about something else,” Vanessa cuts off Brooke after her innocent question about northern trees becomes a lecture on tree bark exports. She wracks her brain for something to get them through the next hour until they went back to the castle as painlessly as possible. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I hardly see how that’s relevant,” Brooke splutters. “Surely there’s more important things--”

“Just answer the question.”

Brooke’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. It’s the first question she doesn’t have an answer ready for, and Vanessa wonders how she knows a dozen uses for tree bark and history going back several centuries but has to think about her favorite color. Was it possible that no one had ever asked her?

“What’s yours?” Brooke counters.

“Yellow,” Vanessa responds without hesitation. Yellow like the sun, like the lemon candies in her village, tart and sweet in the same bite, like the birds welcoming the morning outside her castle window. “Now you answer.”

Brooke bites her lip. “White,” she says finally. 

“White?”

“Yes. Like the snow when it falls all fluffy like a cloud.” For a second, her voice has the wonder of a child and her eyes shine. 

Vanessa nods, glad she didn’t laugh at Brook for choosing a boring color before hearing her explanation. She guesses the snow can be pretty, when it’s not numbing your legs. She’s just a little surprised that Brooke likes it so much when she sees it every year, but Vanessa supposes that just because something’s familiar doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. Maybe it was even more beautiful when you saw something countless times and still appreciated it for all it was. 

“Favorite food?” Vanessa asks. 

Brooke describes the honey cakes and crusty rolls Nina makes, and Vanessa tells her about the roasted chicken with beans that she devours back home. 

If this is what she has to do to make Brooke stop hating her, this is what she’ll do. 

Only after exchanging favorite seasons (spring for Brooke and summer for Vanessa) does she think that maybe the questions are making _her_ stop hating Brooke. 

\---

Vanessa didn’t think it was possible, but somehow the nightly dinners with both their families are more painful than days with Brooke. Tonight, Thomas has been talking about the wedding so long it might be here before he finishes, and the bread with roasted garlic that Nina made is the only thing keeping Vanessa from sprinting out of the dining room. She reaches for her fourth slice as Thomas lists names off the mile-long guest list, watching Brooke fiddle with her knife.

A clang sounds underneath her. Brooke has gone completely rigid and stares intensely at her empty hand, lips parted and brow furrowed, as if she’s trying to understand how she could have dropped it. 

Vanessa’s body reacts without thought, sliding her own knife over to Brooke as heads turn their way. 

“My apologies,” Vanessa offers. “The knife slipped right through my hand.”

From how tense Brooke is, Vanessa expects shouting, but there’s no reprimand from anyone. She doesn’t know if Brooke would have gotten in trouble for that, but she thinks of how stiff Brooke got when her father scolded her the day of the eggshells, how scared she was after the knife hit the floor, and Vanessa figures it’s better to let everyone think she’s clumsy if it keeps that fear from Brooke’s eyes. 

One of the kitchen staff brings her a new knife, and the dinner continues like nothing happened. 

Brooke’s fingers brush against hers, light as a bird’s feather. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Vanessa knows she did the right thing. 

It’s not until she’s in bed that she thinks of how last week she would have paid a bag of gold to see the Ice Princess slip up like that, to see a crack in her perfect exterior. But now that it’s happened, she wants to patch that crack up and keep her whole. 

\---

“Are there any shops that sell candy here?” Vanessa asks. They’re in a different village today, a little farther from the castle. This one is even more gloomy than the one they normally go to. The snow is a dirty gray and many shops are closed, empty behind broken glass. It’s been a week and though she no longer hates Brooke, they’re far from friends. Brooke is still too guarded, too composed for Vanessa to really know her. When Vanessa asks questions she always expects Brooke to say more, but she doesn’t; she just gives simple, exact answers. Vanessa considers if she just doesn’t want to talk or if she’s hiding something. 

“There’s one on the next street. It has chocolate truffles,” Brooke says, and Vanessa needs no more.

She turns the corner to see the sign reading _Scarlet’s Sweets_ hanging off its hinges, rocking in the wind. Thick dust and grime coats the windows. Looks like she isn’t getting chocolate today. 

“I think it’s been closed for a while.”

“I didn’t know,” Brooke replies. “I don’t know much about the stores or people here, really.”

Vanessa knew all about the people in her village. She knew Honey, who appropriately owned the candy shop where Vanessa bought lemon drops and chocolates by the pound. She stopped in Ariel’s tailor shop to talk to her, bearing raspberry chocolates for Ariel’s little sister. She knew Ra’jah at the apothecary and Mercedes at the butcher shop, has listened to all their stories and helped her parents enact laws that protected merchants. 

“You don’t? Thought you knew everything,” she teases, wondering what has changed over the past few days for her to venture teasing Brooke. Or what has changed that leads to Brooke not yelling at her, but flashing a half-grin--Vanessa doesn’t think she has any others--before resuming her frown. 

“I don’t really go out much,” Brooke explains. “My parents like me to stay inside and do my lessons and go to meetings because that’s more important.”

She couldn’t imagine being stuck inside all day like Brooke. She was like a caged animal when she was inside too long, eyes flitting to the sky and dense green trees when she was in a meeting. Running along the village cobblestones or through the cornfields where the stalk towered over her was the best part of her day. Her parents had always let her, setting aside time each day for her to go outside, knowing how important freedom is to her. 

“Oh.” she says, things starting to make a little more sense. Brooke’s parents keeping her inside all day, forcing her to study, is another piece that helps add up to the puzzle that is Brooke. It explains why she knows so much about history and commerce but so little about the world or even herself, why she seems uncertain of the shops they go in. 

“There’s chocolate truffles in the candy shop closer to the castle,” Brooke offers.

“Let’s go then.”

\---

The howling is back, jolting her out of a somewhat decent sleep. Now that she’s awake, the cold returns and digs into her bones like tiny knives, back aching as she shivers. 

Maybe there’s more blankets somewhere. She grabs her robe and opens the door, only to narrowly avoid bumping into Brooke. Vanessa notes the deep bags under her eyes.

“What are you doing stalking around in the middle of the night?” Vanessa asks, holding her robe closed. 

The light pink tinge to Brooke’s cheeks glows rosily in the light of the wall torches. 

“I-I couldn’t sleep. Thought a walk might help. I’m sorry if I woke you.” 

Judging from those bags, Vanessa suspects this sleeplessness is nothing new. But Brooke looking so vulnerable, so small and lost without her glittery jewelry or dresses _is_ new, and she softens, uncrossing her arms and waving Brooke off. “I was up anyway. Some animals outside woke me.” 

“Right,” Brooke nods. “I’ll just be moving along then.” She turns smoothly and shuffles back down to the other end of the hall.

_Sleep well_, Vanessa thinks but doesn’t say, surging with a sudden warmth that makes her forget the blankets. 

\---

Vanessa’s grown bored with the village today, drumming her fingers on the tabletop in the square, and she jumps when Brooke asks if he wants to return early and have tea with Nina.

Snow is fluttering to the ground on their way back to the castle, sticking to her cheeks and landing bright on the shoulders of her black cloak. 

“It’s so pretty when it falls.” Brooke is so quiet Vanessa isn’t sure whether she’s meant to hear. 

“It is pretty,” Vanessa admits. “We don’t get it at all down south. It’s so _cold_ though. Especially at night. I’ve been sleeping with three blankets and I still can’t get warm,” she laments, but she lacks any real bitterness. It’s hard to be bitter about it when it’s falling so thick, fragments of a cloud like Brooke said, pearly-white and delicate as it lands on her forehead. Brooke nods, and Vanessa again gets the idea she’s holding something back, that she wants to say something but isn’t sure she should. __

_ _Regardless, Brooke is a little looser as the snow settles in her wavy hair, head lowered until they stride across the castle’s stone floor, when it snaps back up like she’s on a string. _ _

_ _Thomas is there to greet them. Brooke pales, her mouth twisting as she appears to bite the inside of her cheek, before becoming the perfect princess again, face a blank canvas. Thomas’s eyes are rimmed with hatred when he first sees her. He forcefully brushes the snow from her hair, muttering under his breath about presentation and that she needs to change for dinner. Brooke nods and Vanessa knows tea with Nina is out of the picture. _ _

_ _She considers the defeat in Brooke when she saw Thomas, and Vanessa’s thoughts have to regroup. Had she gotten it wrong? What if it wasn’t Thomas that was stuck with Brooke, but the other way around? It wouldn’t be the first time she had completely misread a relationship, seen things that weren’t there, missed the problems staring her in the face, changed the narrative to fit her emotions. _ _

_ _At least this time it wouldn’t cost her anything. _ _

_ _\--_ _

_ _That night, there’s a stack of thick, fluffy blankets on her bed. She plucks the note off the top. _ _

_Stay warm_. 

_ _The handwriting is so elegant and precise there’s only one person it could be from, and Vanessa finds her mind tracing the curves and swells of the letters all night. _ _

_ _\---_ _

_ _“You’ve been watching every other day, correct?” the correspondent asks the man. _ _

_ _“Yes. I think I’ll increase to every day. I need more time sizing that one up, picturing that arrow going in,” the man says._ _

_ _“If you think more surveillance will help, do it. Just make sure you aren’t seen. I’ll increase castle surveillance as well. Neither of them expect anything, I’m certain of it. And don’t forget to keep working on your aim.”_ _


	5. I Believe in a Place You Take Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Vanessa started spending time with Brooke and began trying to get to know her  
Now: They spend more time together and learn more about each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has read and left feedback the past few chapters! All your support really does mean a lot to me and I appreciate each comment! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and leave some feedback if you'd like! Thank you Writ for being an amazing beta!  
Chapter title from Love song by Lana Del Rey

It’s possible that Vanessa is growing on her. Though that implies Vanesa is a delicate flower poking through the grass, and she’s not. Maybe it’s more so that Vanessa is a saw hacking away at Brooke, and she isn’t resisting as hard as she used to. 

Vanessa seems poised to ask her every question in existence, and Brooke has never talked so much. It makes her palms a little sweaty, having to think about her favorite candy and what she likes to do. No one has asked her since she was seven or eight (not that she expected anyone to waste time on that when there were more important questions) and it takes her much longer to answer those questions than it does questions about history or laws. But she’s also secretly grateful Vanessa is taking the lead because it prevents her from sitting in silence, weighing every word she wants to say for so long that by the time she opens her mouth, the subject has changed. She’s doing her best at speaking to Vanessa like an equal, not as a subject or a guest, and she hopes it’s working. 

Vanessa does seem to have eased in her hatred as well. She had even given Brooke her own knife after Brooke dropped hers, probably not knowing the weight of the gesture, which spared her a lecture on being clumsy and careless. Brooke’s not sure if all their casual talking is proper behavior, but if this inquisition is what she has to do so she doesn’t disappoint her parents, then she’ll answer every question Vanessa throws at her. 

\---

“How have things been going with Vanessa?” Nina asks, handing her a cup of tea. 

“Better,” Brooke responds truthfully. 

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad! Have you been talking to her?”

“Yes. She mostly asks me questions about myself.”

“And?”

“And I answer her.” 

“You just answer?”

“Yes,” Brooke confirms in confusion. What else is she supposed to do? Her father always said a princess should never reveal more about herself than the question required, and should never leave a question unanswered for too long. 

Nina turns away from the picnic basket she’s preparing for Brooke and Vanessa’s lunch, her hand easing over Brooke’s shoulder. “You don’t have to treat everything like a test,” she says softly. “She might be asking to learn more about you. You don’t have to just give her a perfect answer, you can talk about yourself a bit too,” she coaxes. 

Brooke hasn’t considered that Vanessa actually wants to hear more about her. Most people didn’t; they only wanted her to speak royal greetings and talk about laws. She figured the questions are just Vanessa forcing herself to be nice, or a distraction to pass the time since they’re forbidden from yelling at each other.

“I don’t know how to do that,” Brooke admits. Nina is the only person she would ever tell that, the only person that has seen her sweat before a meeting, the only person who has seen her perfect sheen dull and not judged her for it. 

“Well, maybe you can explain your answers some more, talk about yourself and your experiences. I know you don’t think so, but you probably have a lot in common.”

Brooke nods and grabs the picnic basket, brushing chocolates on the counter out of the way. It reminds her of Scarlet’s candy shop, and for a second, she’s tempted to ask Nina what happened to it. It’s been bothering her since she and Vanessa went. She remembers Nina taking her there as a child, both of them crunching on the almond chocolates all afternoon. Brooke has some strange idea in the back of her mind that she knows why it closed, but locked the knowledge so far deep inside that the key no longer works. But she can’t be late to get Vanessa, and she heads out the door with a _thank you_.

Brooke turns the idea over in her head as she walks to Vanessa’s room. Sharing information about herself gives her the same stomach-clenching fear eye contact did, that all her secrets would be out. But Nina’s advice is typically always right, whether it’s on what to wear or what to say, and Vanessa _has_ been nicer lately, not as rough or angry. Maybe she truly does want to hear more about Brooke. Maybe Vanessa can become someone Brooke trusts. 

Maybe she can even become a friend.

\---

“Nina made us a picnic?” Vanessa asks excitedly as she settles down on a blanket in the castle courtyard. 

“She did.”

Vanessa makes a noise somewhere between a shriek and a squeal, and Brooke finds a snorting laugh escape her as Vanessa digs into the basket. 

Vanessa pulls back and stares at her.

“What?” Brooke asks. Did she do something wrong? Is there something on her face? 

“I think that’s the first time I ever heard you laugh,” Vanessa muses. 

Brooke’s whole face is on fire. She wishes real flames would erupt and consume her. She’s been told several times by Thomas and her parents that her laugh isn’t lady-like and she should refrain from doing it. Not that she’s had much cause to laugh lately. 

She pulls her gaze away from the small smile lighting up Vanessa’s face. “So there’s sandwiches and fruit,” Brooke explains quickly, trying to force the heat from her cheeks and hoping Vanessa won’t be offended by her laugh, won’t think she’s being improper. “There’s little chocolate cakes too. Nina found out you like them.”

“That woman is amazing.”

Vanessa tears into her sandwich, and there’s something about the way she eats with such reckless abandon, such utter delight, like she doesn’t care who sees her enjoying herself, that makes Brooke’s stomach stir uncomfortably. Last week, she thought Vanessa was barbaric for her zealous eating, but she hadn’t recognized it for what it was: freedom. 

“She is.” Brooke pauses, remembering Nina’s words. Maybe she _could_ open up a bit more, and her appreciation for Nina is an easy thing to talk about. “She’s been with us since I was born. She’s always taken care of me. Sometimes...sometimes more than my parents.” she confesses. 

It was true. It was Nina who cleaned her up and kissed the scrape on her knee when she fell playing outside. Nina who gave her a honey cake and a steaming cup of tea and listened to her problems when she was upset. Nina who calmed her down before important meetings and told her she would do just fine.

“That’s nice that you have her,” Vanessa says. “I’m pretty close with my attendants. I don’t know what I’d do without them, and I know they _truly_ like me, you know? You don’t always have that in royalty. Even the people you think care about you just care about your position and what you can give them,” Vanessa concludes, and Brooke nods. She gets that. Interactions have an air of insincerity, like every move people make, every word people say, has been carefully calculated to get them power, or money, or both. She hadn’t pictured Vanessa understanding that too, and she has to admit that Vanessa is a lot smarter than Brooke gave her credit for. Given her yelling and egg-throwing, Brooke had marked her as an idiot, but she’s seeing that was wrong. 

They eat their sandwiches and Brooke’s mind is buzzing, searching for something, _anything_, that she can say. Why could she talk about royal expenditures but not something normal? She doubts Vanessa would be interested in an analysis of the book she finished last night, or a history of apples in the north. 

“Thank you for the blankets,” Vanessa cuts through her thoughts. 

“Oh. Of course. You’re a guest, you should be comfortable.” She didn’t want Vanessa to think she had to thank her; maybe she shouldn’t have left a note at all. _Not everything is a test_, she reminds herself. _Just talk_. “It must be difficult here, with the cold. Especially if you’re not used to it.”

“It is.” Vanessa nods. “I never saw snow before I came here. I hated it at first, but I suppose it’s not _all_ bad.”

“I see it every year, and I still like it. It makes everything so bright and clean. Like a fresh start,” Brooke attempts to put her excitement of seeing the unbroken white blanketing everything into words. 

“I can appreciate a fresh start,” Vanessa declares.

Maybe it’s Nina’s advice, or maybe it’s the chocolate clinging to Vanessa’s lips that’s distracting her from her fears, but she continues on, telling Vanessa about how she used to play in the snow, and Vanessa replies with stories of running through corn fields, and maybe this is what it’s like to have a friend.

\---

Brooke stands in line in the village bakery the next morning and returns to Vanessa with iced lemon cakes, only to meet a swarm of squalling children surrounding Vanessa, who is passing small chocolates and bright-colored candies into their eager hands. 

Brooke waits until the last one clears away before approaching. 

“I leave for five minutes and you’re handing out candy to the masses,” Brooke accuses, warding off the fondness that threatens to creep into her voice.

Vanessa shrugs. “They just wanted some candy. They’re kids, it’s not like they have money.”

“Do you often do things like that for people?”

“You mean nice things? As a matter of fact, I do. I like to remind myself that non-royal people are still people, you know?”

Brooke nods, but she truly doesn’t. Her parents never let her stay in the villages for long, stating it was unsafe for her among the commoners. _Princesses don’t converse with common folk_, her father rings in her ears. 

Vanessa moves on through the square, and Brooke wonders what has changed in the past week for this to come out. She seems gentler today, and she didn’t even insult Brooke when she started rattling off facts about a war from three centuries ago, when what Brooke really wanted to say is that Vanessa’s braids look nice today. 

Vanessa has kind smiles for people, though she still stares at couples with disdain like she usually does, and Brooke wonders if she had a bad relationship with someone. Any official relationship, courtship, or engagement would have been announced by the king and queen. There was never any news of Vanessa’s romantic prospects, so if there was something, like an engagement broken too soon to announce, Brooke knows it’s not her place to ask. It is quite odd though, for Vanessa to be seventeen and not have any prospects. (Especially when she’s as pretty as she is, something Brooke admits objectively). She also ponders whether a failed engagement, however secret, might have had something to do with Vanessa’s initial hatred and mistrust toward her. Maybe it was just Vanessa’s way of protecting herself. 

“You seem cheerful today,” Brooke ventures.

“Are you trying to say I’m not cheerful every other day?”

She messed up again. Why did she even think she could say something so informal? Why did she think Vanessa would like it?

“I’m just teasing you, Brooke,” Vanessa winks. “I’m not freezing today, so that’s something. And maybe you were right about snow being a fresh start.”

There’s _something_ there, some sort of hint, but Brooke can’t bring herself to pursue it. It’s just too much. Instead she states, “Three more weeks and you’ll be back home,” an odd emptiness filling her chest. It’s a reminder of how fleeting this all is. She’s already shared her favorite food and season and color with Vanessa, but what’s the point when she’s leaving soon? Brooke doubts they would be friends after, and she doubts she even has the right to consider them friends now. 

“That’s true,” Vanessa agrees, and the air around her is tinged with sadness like falling snow. 

\---

Thomas is arguing with the Mateos. _Again_. 

Both her and Vanessa had been told this meeting is mandatory, and Brooke takes careful notes as everyone argues over the terms of the new alliance. Thomas is insisting the north receive more resources, like crops, because it’s larger, and Brooke’s head is pounding so much that even the scratching of her quill makes her grit her teeth. Thomas’s yelling is like a massive sword sinking deeper into her head by the second. He had pushed so hard to get the Mateos here early for this, so why is he trying to anger them, turn them into enemies?

Her quill keeps moving, chronicling the Mateos’ argument--which Brooke agrees with--that resources be distributed evenly, which eventually her father consents to, and then the meeting ends. 

Brooke rises to leave when Thomas intercepts her. 

“You are supposed to support me in these situations,” he hisses.

She tries to muster the words to say that she can’t support unfair policies, but the pain in her head makes the message lag. “I-”

“Just do better next time,” he instructs. “Remember who matters. You might be a princess, but you have no worth without a prince. Even your parents know I make you more likable. And wear gold for dinner tonight, I’m sick of seeing you in blue.” He storms off. 

Brooke keeps her head high and takes every word without a flinch. She pinches her nose, hoping to ease the pain, but rips her hand away when she recalls there’s still people around to see her looking so weak.

“Everything all right?” Vanessa is in front of her. How much had she seen? How much had she heard?

Brooke finds her mouth opening. “Of course.”

“Do you want to go to the village?”

Oh, how she does. To be with Vanessa, their identities unknown, sandwiches and a friendship (_maybe?_) between them. Somehow walking the uneven streets with Vanessa has become not something she bears, but something she appreciates, maybe even--strange as it is—_enjoys_. But her headache is starting to make her stomach twist (though, to be fair, her stomach often twists around Vanessa) and she can’t foresee anything this afternoon beyond burrowing into bed. 

“I would, I just--I have a really bad headache,” she confesses, brushing past her fear of Vanessa seeing her this weak. 

“Oh.” Vanessa sounds disappointed. “My mother says ginger tea helps with headaches, if you want to try that.”

“I will. Thank you.” Brooke turns toward the door.

“I can bring it to you.”

Brooke spins around. Vanessa’s mouth is open in disbelief at her own offer, but she continues, “If you want, I mean. You should go rest. I’ll get the tea.”

Brooke agrees, and minutes later she slides into her soft bed and buries her face deep in her pillow, pain already receding. Vanessa treads in and nudges her shoulder with a gentleness Brooke didn’t think she possessed, a gentleness Brooke isn’t quite sure she deserves, and offers her a flowered teacup. 

“This would have been the perfect opportunity to poison you,” Vanessa reflects in amusement. “Lucky for you, I didn’t.”

“Lucky indeed.” Brooke finds a smile deep inside and draws it out. When Vanessa first arrived, Brooke wouldn’t have been surprised if Vanessa _did_ try to poison her. Now, the real surprise is Vanessa bringing her a cup of tea. Brooke doesn’t think anyone besides an attendant has ever done so. 

“Thank you,” Brooke whispers, taking a small sip that warms her whole body. 

“You’re welcome.” Vanessa shifts her weight from foot to foot and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. “Get some rest. I’ll see you at dinner.” 

The room is empty, almost cavernous, without her in it. Even though she just plans to nap all afternoon, for some reason Brooke wishes Vanessa had stayed, tucked up in her arm chair, like Brooke would be able to sense her presence even in sleep. She shoves the ridiculous thought away and takes another sip. 

Brooke finishes her tea and sinks into blissful sleep. Plastique wakes her to get ready for dinner, and she finds the headache has retreated for now, though it swirls beneath the surface and threatens to break through again as she steps into her gold dress. 

\---

“Do you think you’ll ever travel to the south? You have to come in the summer,” Vanessa insists the next day over fresh, jam-topped bread. “The peaches are so ripe, and it’s so hot one time Silky--her and A’keria are my attendants--cracked an egg on the ground to see if it would fry. It didn’t, but it sure did make a mess on A’keria’s shoes.”

Another laugh flies out of Brooke, the second Vanessa has pulled from her in a week, and she no longer fears Vanessa will insult her for it. Vanessa is laughing too, which only makes it more intense when she leans in suddenly. “Do you feel like someone’s watching us?” Vanessa’s voice is laced with suspicion and concealed fear. 

_Always_, Brooke thinks. Every second her shoulders strained under the weight of stares people cast toward her, expecting to see the perfect Brooke she worked so hard to give them. 

But Vanessa is serious, and her fear transfers to Brooke, neck prickling with sweat and hair on her arms sticking up. _Is_ there someone around the corner, eyes searching, studying them? Someone who has figured out who they are? She’s gotten too complacent in being anonymous, almost pretending a few times that she and Vanessa are two normal girls. She can’t let that happen again.

Brooke swallows down the fear and peeks around. There’s the guards over by the butcher shop watching discreetly, but everyone else is active, griping over prices or walking with their heads down. 

“It’s probably the guards,” Brooke suggests in reassurance. Vanessa is tense, shoulders drawn up near her ears, hands gripping the table for dear life. 

“You’re probably right,” she sighs. “I just wish we could go somewhere where no one can see us.”

Brooke thinks for a few seconds, the idea hitting her like lightning. She should have taken Vanessa there before.

“I know a place we can go.”

\---

“No one will see us up here, I promise.” Brooke leads Vanessa up the rickety chapel stairs to the music loft, where she played by herself as a child. She was hidden in a world of her own when she sunk beneath the balcony wall, and she motions for Vanessa to sit with her, facing the magnificent organ that would signal the start of her wedding in the chapel below. It is just under three weeks away now, and she forces the thought out of her mind. 

As if she’s reading Brooke’s thoughts, Vanessa states, “You don’t want to marry Thomas.” It’s not a question. Vanessa must have figured out enough that it doesn’t need to be. 

“It unites our families and strengthens the country,” Brooke gives the answer she’s given at several feasts when someone asks her how excited she is to marry Thomas. 

“A political marriage, that’s what I thought,” Vanessa says. “Is he-”

“It could be worse,” Brooke allows.

That’s what she’s been telling herself since the engagement was announced last year: It could be worse. Of course she didn’t want to marry Thomas, but how could she escape it? She doesn’t think she wants to marry a man at all, but there is no way that can be anything but a thought. Her father would surely disown her, and she shudders to think what would happen to her if the information fell into the wrong hands. She’s trapped, her fate decided for her before she was even born. She isn’t going to pretend it’s anything other than a political marriage, done to make her more appealing and unite her family with Thomas’s. Her father had arranged the marriage with Thomas’s father, and she couldn’t disappoint him. Neither her nor Thomas loved each other; they barely even tolerated each other (_but it could be worse_). And maybe he raises his voice too much and grabs her arm just a little too tight when they talk to people at feasts, but he’s barely around, and he doesn’t hit her. She knows several princesses who aren’t as lucky. 

She can’t get her mouth to open and say all this to Vanessa, so she says nothing. 

“I’m sorry. I understand what it’s like to be trapped in something.” Vanessa bites her lip, and the compassion in her brown eyes is almost more than Brooke can bear. As much as she hates herself for it, marrying Thomas is what she has to do, for her family and the kingdom. She doesn’t want, and certainly doesn’t deserve, anyone’s pity. 

Brooke remains silent through her curiosity. It’s what she’s done most of her life, swallowing down words that cut like broken glass inside her. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says finally. 

Vanessa nods. “Is there anything you do want to talk about?”

Brooke shakes her head. 

“Is it all right if I talk?”

Brooke agrees gratefully, and lets Vanessa fill her ears with words of southern summers. Brooke can taste the sweet peaches bursting in her mouth while juice drips down her chin, feel the soft grass tickling her legs, the bright sun warming her head. 

The hours pass without her notice until the bell in the village chimes the reminder that they have dinner in an hour. A day hasn’t slipped by like this since Brooke was a child. 

“I guess we better go.” Brooke rises, even though her bones long to stay, to let Vanessa’s rough voice soothe her in some odd way, to let Brooke pretend that she’s glowing in the sun along with her.

Vanessa rolls her eyes playfully. “I know, I know. You’re not getting in trouble for me.”

But by the time they both retreat into their bedrooms to get ready, Brooke can no longer deny that she thinks Vanessa might be worth getting in trouble for. 

\---

“Are you feeling confident? We only have three more weeks,” the correspondent reminds the man. 

“Quite confident. I just don’t understand why we have to wait. We can--”

“We are on a very strict schedule. This plan is extraordinarily delicate. Do not spoil it by being impatient,” the correspondent snaps. 

“Right.”

“I have something for you as well.” The correspondent passes the man a glass vial filled with clear liquid. 

“What is it?”

“It’s poison. Some extra insurance. I trust your aim, but I’m not taking any chances with this. Dip the arrow in it. Even if you miss the heart, it should get the job done.”


	6. I Believe That You See Me For Who I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Vanessa and Brooke grow closer together  
Now: Their relationship grows as threats intensify, and we find out what happened to the necklace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of feelings in this chapter! Thank you all so much for all the feedback, each comment really is important to me. I hope you leave some feedback on this chapter! Chapter title from Love song by Lana Del Rey. Writ is the most amazing beta and I can't thank them enough for their help!
> 
> ***Please note this chapter has a panic attack, social anxiety, and aspects of an unhealthy relationship***

Vanessa opens her eyes to another day in the north, her teeth not chattering for once thanks to Brooke’s blankets. A reminder that Brooke is not what she expected, not what the early signs indicated she was. Vanessa isn’t sure exactly what she and Brooke are--is ‘friends’ too much of a stretch for someone she wanted to kick mere weeks ago?--but maybe it doesn’t need a name. Maybe she can just enjoy a day with Brooke and her soft voice, not the commanding one everyone else heard. If only she had had Brooke’s voice giving her lessons instead of her tutor’s dull monotone, she might have actually paid attention. 

A loud meowing sounds at the window. What is with the animals up north and their obnoxious sounds? How could a cat even _be_ that loud?

She shrugs off her eight layers of blankets and peeks out the window to reveal two cats huddled on the edge of the grass. One is smoky gray, the other swirly brown, and even from here, Vanessa can see that the poor things are underfed; realizing that they’re probably strays, she forgets her annoyance. 

The meowing continues, and suddenly a tall figure makes its way toward them, bowl in hand and a loaf of bread under one arm. It’s Brooke, getting on her hands and knees by the cats, setting the bowl in front of them and breaking bread into chunks that she offers to each cat, their tongues darting out. Brooke even extends her hand and lets the gray one lick her. 

Vanessa smiles, and turns away before her heart starts to feel something she can’t fight. 

\---

“Big feast tomorrow,” Vanessa comments as they enter the castle courtyard. 

“I hate feasts.” Brooke mutters. 

“Me too. The only good part is the food.”

“I just hate having to talk to so many people, and they’d all know if I make a mistake or say something wrong.”

“You _can_ make mistakes, Brooke.”

“I can’t.” Brooke’s eyes darken and Vanessa’s heart surges with regret. She wishes she could help Brooke somehow, but she knows that there’s just no getting out of certain situations, having felt the suffocating burden herself. 

She can’t help Brooke escape the wedding, but if only there was something she could do to make Brooke laugh, or even just smile… she remembers the pride swelling in her chest when she got Brooke to laugh for the first time, how it was like she had uncovered a treasure. She’s learning that Brooke is a tightly wrapped chocolate, and if you’re willing to untwist and unravel all the polished, pristine layers, the inside is sweet and rich, nurturing the soul, and all Vanessa knows is that she wants to keep Brooke safe from anyone that would rip and tear at her in pursuit of the prize. 

But right now, Brooke’s seal is just too tight. The circles under her eyes are more pronounced than ever, stark against pale skin, and she has the weight of the world on her slim shoulders even though her posture remains flawless. 

What could she do? Vanessa sticks her gloved hands into a fresh pile of snow, shaping it into a rough ball. She rears her arm back…

“Hey!” Brooke spins around to find the assailant, brushing snow off her shoulder. 

Vanessa gives an exaggerated shrug in mock innocence. 

“I know it was you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vanessa raises an eyebrow.

“I could have you arrested for treason,” Brooke threatens, voice light. 

“You could. Or you could throw one back, even things out.” Vanessa encourages.

Brooke scoops up a handful of snow, then lets it slip through her fingers with a shake of her head. “I can’t. It isn’t proper. Princesses don’t throw snowballs.”

Vanessa can see the longing in her, just how badly she wants to but won’t let herself. How a part of her is trapped inside, locked in place by her title. Vanessa gathers another mound of snow and lobs it at Brooke. “Well, I just did,” she retorts, “Twice.”

A spray of white shoots toward Vanessa and almost knocks her over. Brooke grew up with this snow, and her aim, like everything else, is perfect. Vanessa is too busy laughing and dodging the onslaught to produce her own ammunition, collapsing to the snow in a fit of laughter, and her stomach is burning when Brooke offers her a hand up, similarly grinning. 

Brooke reaches out and brushes the snow out of Vanessa’s hair. Her touch is light but Vanessa feels it deep in her body, maybe even on her heart. Brooke’s eyes narrow in focus, brow furrowing, and Vanessa doesn’t dare breathe and disturb her concentration. It’s only when Brooke’s cheeks bloom soft pink and she tears her hands away that Vanessa notices the snow has been out of her hair for over a minute now. 

“Should we go get lunch?” Brooke suggests. “The bakery has a new soup this week.”

“Soup it is.”

\---

The bakery’s soup is so thick and flavorful that Vanessa proclaims she’s having it for lunch again the next day, and that’s exactly what they do. 

Brooke is standing in line to get two bowls and Vanessa is sitting at a table toward the edge of the village square when she sees a flash of dark hair leaving a pub. She gets up and ducks around a shop, thinking that she’d rather get run over by a horse than have a conversation with him, when he appears behind her and there’s no escape. 

“Enjoying your day in the village?” Thomas inquires.

“I could ask you the same question,” Vanessa deflects. Based on what Brooke told her, she’s already decided he doesn’t deserve her kindness, and the predatory way he peers at her and keeps glancing over at Brooke makes her hair stand on end, solidifying her decision. 

He smirks. “Just working on some business dealings.”

“Does Brooke know your business takes place in a pub?”

“I’m sure she suspects, though I doubt she cares. She only cares about herself, haven’t you noticed? That’s why she’s marrying me, to make herself look better--”

“That’s not true!” Vanessa snaps, though a few weeks ago she would have made the same declaration herself. But last week, Brooke stood in the bakery line for almost half an hour just so Vanessa could try a maple tart, and she fed those cats yesterday. And as for marrying Thomas, Brooke hadn’t given her many details, but Vanessa knows wholeheartedly Brooke is the one being taken advantage of, not Thomas. Another thing she’d gotten wrong at the beginning of this trip. 

He sneers at her. “Brooke’s on her way back now. I don’t think you’ll be telling her about this, will you?”

“Are you threatening me?” her hands fly to her hips. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“No,” he answers, “You’re not.” And then his face darkens like a storm cloud. “But Brooke is. I think it’s better for her if she doesn’t know about our little meeting, don’t you agree?”

He walks away because he knows he’s won, and Vanessa has to force her jaw closed. She could handle herself, but if he’s going to threaten Brooke, she can’t risk it. She thought Thomas was just a social-climbing prince using Brooke to give himself higher status, but could he be a bigger threat than she thought? 

Damn it. Why could she never see the danger, never see the teeth of the beast, until they snapped shut around her? 

Her heart aches, but she knows she has to stay silent to keep Brooke safe.

She goes back to the table just as Brooke sits and slides her a bowl. “Everything all right?”

“Of course.”

Brooke’s face is cut deep with worry as she eats her soup and Vanessa just wants her to be happy again. 

“Did I tell you about the time Silky knocked over an entire display of apples? She wanted to make a game out of it, see how many she could pull out before the whole thing fell.”

“How many did she pull?” Brooke asks. 

“Two. Then it was an avalanche.”

Brooke breaks off into that snorting laugh that Vanessa can’t help but smile at. Brooke didn’t even hesitate to do it this time, and she’s coughing by the time she’s done. 

“It sounds like you three have a lot of fun.”

“We do.” Vanessa smiles, a rush of affection for her friends flooding her. It gets washed away by sadness though, at Brooke’s look of longing. 

“That’s nice. It must be nice. To have a friend, I mean,” Brooke says softly. “I don’t think I ever have. Not a real one, anyway.”

Vanessa slides her hand across the table and rests it on top of Brooke’s. “You have me.”

Brooke’s eyes widen and her breath hitches; then she puts her other hand on top of Vanessa’s and Vanessa silences her heart once more. 

\---

Vanessa returns to her room, skin still tingling from Brooke’s touch, when Silky says her parents need to speak with her. Her anger from before lunch has receded but comes roaring back when she sees that hopeful expression on her mother’s face and knows she isn’t going to like what’s coming next. 

“Vanessa, your father and I were talking…”

“And?” The last time a conversation started like this, with her mother making that face, she had found out they were coming north a month early. 

“Well, there’s going to be some princes at this feast tonight and more at the wedding, and it might be time for us to start thinking of an engagement for you.”

Vanessa’s stomach drops; it might actually exit her body and splatter on the floor. 

“I’m sorry, _what_?” she demands, praying she misheard. 

Her mother sighs. “It’s just that you’ll be 18 in the fall, and that’s typically the age when engagements are announced. We’ve given you a lot of freedom, but you do need to think about the future. You are going to be queen someday, and--”

“No!” She’s out the door before anyone can try to stop her. Without consulting her mind, her feet take her to Brooke’s door, but Vanessa can’t bring herself to knock. The feast is in less than two hours, and Brooke is surely getting ready, shedding the person that threw snowballs yesterday and becoming the princess everyone wants to see. Vanessa can’t go in there. She refuses her body and returns to the portrait room. 

She takes slow breaths, all of her insides ready to revolt. Her mother’s words slash her like a sword. Her parents have always understood her need to be free, her dislike of stuffy royal rules. Somehow she thought that meant they would spare her a royal marriage to a man she would never love, never even like. Just like Brooke, stuck in a marriage she would convince herself could be worse, as if that somehow made it _good_. Some part of her had hoped that, even after everything she went through to keep it secret, somehow they would know what had happened last year, would know marrying a man was out of the question for her. 

Vanessa races for a plan that gives her some time. Maybe if she tells her parents that she and Brooke have become friends (she’ll even swallow her pride and admit their idea worked out) and she just wants to enjoy the next few weeks with Brooke, they would let her wait until returning home to meet with suitors. It’s not much, but it will have to do for now. 

She gets ready for the feast, shedding and applying parts of herself just like she knew Brooke had learned long ago. 

\---

“You look beautiful.” Brooke leans over to whisper before they make their entrances. 

Vanessa is in her favorite gold dress, the one Brooke had stared at the first day they spent together. Even with all that’s happened today, she feels a tiny bit better hugged by the bright gold of the dress, missing only her necklace. 

“Thank you. So do you.”

Brooke’s dress is a pale green that matches her eyes perfectly, the color even more striking now. The bags under her eyes have been concealed, her hair is braided on top and in loose waves underneath, her posture perfect. 

Vanessa hears her entrance being announced and she trades one last smile with Brooke--the last real one either of them will experience tonight--and then she heads inside. 

\---

The feast is everything she has come to expect from a feast: trying to remember dozens of names and titles that would inevitably escape her seconds later, pretending to be interested as princes drawled on, answering the same insincere questions with the same insincere answers, and too much talking before the food is served. 

Through it all, she’s been unable to keep her eyes off Brooke, making the rounds to all the nobles with Thomas. He has a firm hand around Brooke’s upper arm. A hand of ownership, not comfort. Like Brooke is a prize he shows off not because he cares for it, but because he wants everyone to know he’s won. 

High-pitched laughter soars down the great hall, and Vanessa sees Brooke’s eyes flicker to the laugh in fear. They’re talking to Lady Cain--one of the nicer people in attendance, though the bar is so low it’s underground--when Vanessa notices the wine in Brooke’s glass rolling like the sea. 

The wine sloshes around again, and Vanessa knows what’s going to happen but can’t do anything about it. The glass slips through Brooke’s trembling fingers, hitting the stone floor with a tinkering crash and dark red liquid splashing over Lady Cain’s shoes. 

Time stops, all the chatter in the room grinding to a halt. Heads flock toward the noise, and Brooke’s face goes redder than a tomato. Vanessa discerns sweat beading at her temples from feet away. King Richard gives a warning glance to his wife, then turns his back on Brooke and resumes his conversation with a lord, the others in attendance following. 

“I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry.” Brooke throws herself on the ground to clean the glass, and Vanessa doesn’t miss the disgusted look Thomas aims at her.

“Oh, don’t worry dear, it was an accident,” Lady Cain says warmly before Thomas drags her away, leaving Brooke with the mess and one last glance that says this is not over. Vanessa crouches to help her, giving the glass shards to Plastique, who appears with a bucket. 

Brooke’s breaths are more like hiccups and her hands are shaking. Vanessa quickly gathers up the rest of the glass before Brooke cuts herself, Plastique getting the smallest crystals with a broom. 

“Are you all right?”

Brooke doesn’t answer--maybe _can’t_ answer, Vanessa thinks, given her wheezing gasps for air. 

“Plastique,” Vanessa says, “I’m taking Brooke outside for a moment.”

Her hand slips loosely around Brooke’s elbow, trying to keep her steady, the opposite of the hold Thomas had on her. She helps her out to the stone hall and into a corner, the torchlight illuminating just how pale Brooke is. 

“I’m sorry,” Brooke chokes out. “They must be so mad, it’s all my fault.” She shakes her head frantically, words tumbling over each other, chest going up and down too fast. “I can’t make a mistake like that, I’m such a disappointment, I can’t--”

Vanessa watches Brooke with fear rising in her like a tide. She’s never seen anything like this, the way Brooke is panting but not taking in any air, her eyes darting around wildly, unable to stop or connect with anything, how the shakes are hitting her whole body now. 

Should she get Nina, or the castle medic? But she can’t leave Brooke like this, and Brooke is in no condition to walk. Vanessa’s on her own. 

“Breathe,” Vanessa says gently, not knowing what else to do. Brooke is going to make herself sick if she can’t breathe normally, and Vanessa can’t let her own terror escape and make things worse. Desperately, she adds, “Like me. In, and out.” She exaggerates her own breathing, smiling in relief when she sees Brooke copy her, her chest moving slower. 

They stand there, slowly breathing, not speaking, for what feels like hours. Eventually, Brooke’s legs seem a bit sturdier and she is breathing normally, shakes easing out. 

“Are you all right?” Vanessa asks when it appears Brooke has enough air to speak.

“Y-yes.”

“What happened?”

“I-I heard those people laughing, and I thought they were laughing at me, that I messed up or did something wrong. And then Lady Cain was talking and it was like I was underwater. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t hear anything correctly, I thought something was wrong with me and then I got so scared and the glass just slipped--”

“Shhh,” Vanessa whispers. “They weren’t laughing at you.”

“They will be now, though, I ruined everything--”

“Shhh,” Vanessa repeats, resisting the urge to rub Brooke’s back. “You didn’t ruin anything. I bet they already forgot what happened. They’re probably all complaining about how long they have to wait until dinner.”

It’s a weak attempt to cheer Brooke up, and she gets a faint smile for her efforts. 

Brooke squares her shoulders. “We have to go back in there.”

“I know.” What she would give to leave, to run to Brooke’s room and talk until morning while Nina kept them supplied with chocolate cake. 

Brooke takes a deep breath and her face resumes its mask of perfection, all the fears and emotions she just let Vanessa witness carefully sealed back inside. Vanessa wonders how exhausting it must be. 

“Let’s go.”

\---

Vanessa’s ear has been pressed against her door for almost an hour now, waiting for Thomas to leave Brooke’s room. They went in right after the feast and Vanessa is grateful the walls are so thick because she doesn’t want to know what’s being said in there. Finally, a door slams and someone growls as they pass her room. 

Vanessa isn’t breathing as she knocks on Brooke’s door. 

“Brooke, it’s me. Can I come in?”

No answer. 

“Brooke?”

Still no answer, and Vanessa’s heartbeat is in her ears. _If that bastard put his hands on her_… 

She eases open the door to find Brooke on the edge of her bed and staring at the floor, still as a statue. 

“Brooke?”

Brooke gives one brief nod and then looks up, her eyes refocusing as she takes Vanessa in. 

“He didn’t…” even the thought of it makes her burn with anger but she has to ask, “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” Brooke says quickly. “He was mad, but he didn’t hurt me.”

_He did, though_, Vanessa thinks. There’s a lot of ways to hurt someone that aren’t physical, and while Brooke’s outsides aren’t marked, Vanessa doubts she can say the same about Brooke’s insides.

“You shouldn’t be alone like this. You want me to stay here tonight?” The question comes out before Vanessa is even aware of the thought. 

Brooke nods without hesitation, and Vanessa drops next to her on the bed, the silence filling the room until Vanessa finally breaks it. 

“That stuff you were saying during the feast, about being a disappointment,” Vanessa starts, unsure where she’s going, “You don’t really think that, do you? Because it’s not true and I want you to know it.”

“It is, though.” Brooke shakes her head. “I spilled wine on one of my father’s top allies. She probably thinks I’m an idiot unfit to rule. They probably all think it. I embarrassed my whole family. How can I ever lead a country--”

“Listen to me,” Vanessa’s voice is firm. “Don’t you think that. Not for a second, Brooke. I mean it. You just get a little nervous talking to people, that’s all. It doesn’t make you unworthy of being queen.”

“But I’m not good enough.”

“Yes you are, Brooke. Whether you’re being Princess Brooke or just real Brooke, you’re absolutely wonderful just the way you are.”

Brooke is looking at her with a hesitant hope, the same part of her that exudes its fierce princess grip probably preventing her from accepting the words. 

“I never thought I’d say this,” Vanessa begins, “But I know how you feel. I know what’s it like to feel like you’re being used, like the real you isn’t enough compared to princess you.”

“You do?”

Vanessa smiles bitterly. “I do.”

And she begins to speak. 

\---

_Vanessa notices the hair first. _

_Long and glossy and black, like a raven. The woman is arguing with a merchant, trying to get a peach for a reduced price. Vanessa struts over, disguised like a commoner, and slams her gold into the merchant’s palm. She takes the peach and hands it to the black-haired girl, who says her name is Beatrice. Vanessa quickly lies that her name is Isabela and ensures her sun necklace is tucked beneath her dress. Beatrice smiles, and Vanessa’s heart is gone. _

_She meets her again the next day, and the day after that. Vanessa spins a tale of working for the princess, which explains all her gold. The freedom is intoxicating. She is Isabela, and Isabela doesn’t have to hide. She tells Beatrice all her hopes and fears, her dream to travel the kingdoms, how she feels constantly underestimated. For the first time, she is with someone who likes her for herself, not for her title. _

_They sneak off to a nearby meadow and trade kisses hidden by the tall grass, a world that exists just for the two of them. _

_Vanessa finds herself buying Beatrice anything and everything she could want. A dangling necklace in one of the shops. A shiny pair of earrings. A new dress with bright red roses embroidered all over. Vanessa didn’t mind. If she could give someone this happiness, why wouldn’t she? _

_Beatrice is her perfect rose: sweet and soft and delicate. And Vanessa holds it too close to see the thorns. _

_Things begin to escalate, and Vanessa is too in love to notice. Beatrice gets caught stealing one day; can Vanessa talk to the princess and get her pardoned? Of course she can. A week later, Beatrice is in the village jail for a series of brutal, bloody fights. Princess Vanessa gathers the gold and papers needed for her release, and doesn’t even mind when the rumor gets twisted around to claim that she was the one to get in those fights. _

_“I wish we didn’t have to hide.” Vanessa says one day, grass forming a wall around them. “I wish we could just love each other and be ourselves.” She means it much more deeply than Beatrice will know, but the general idea is the same. To be open and free, not bothering with disguises and titles, is Vanessa’s deepest dream. _

_“Oh, I think you know a thing or two about hiding,” Beatrice declares, and Vanessa still can’t see the danger. “Isn’t that right, Sun Princess?”_

_Her heart nearly stops. She can’t find any words. _

_“That’s right. I know. I knew all along,” Beatrice continues, standing now. _

_Vanessa wants to stand but her legs won’t work. Would Beatrice tell? Would she still love her? Surely, surely, she would still love her, after all the secrets and kisses they’d shared._

_Beatrice cackles, and Vanessa’s blood runs cold. “Wait, did you think I actually_ loved _you? You did! Aww, that’s cute.” she mocks. _

_The tears are falling before she can stop them and it feels like her chest is being split open. The princess side of her knows she’ll have to pay Beatrice off, do what it takes to keep this secret. But the real side of her is just too heartbroken to breathe. _

_How could she have been stupid enough to think someone would actually like her for her? All those kisses, all the times Beatrice had been the only one to understand her...she had just been used, like a toy. She had given all of herself to a person that would have never stopped taking until there was nothing left to her, and she didn’t even notice. _

_“Now, I won’t tell anyone about this, but there is one more thing I want.”_

_“What?” Vanessa chokes out, not sure she even has anything left to give. _

_“I want your sun necklace.”_

_Vanessa’s mouth falls open. She can’t give that up, she can’t. She’s had it since she was a baby. _

_“That’s my price. Take it or leave it. I think we both know how bad this would be for you and your parents if it got out.”_

_Vanessa can’t breathe. She’s trapped and there is no way out. Lose the necklace and keep the secret, or keep the necklace and risk terrible things happening to her and her parents. She undoes the clasp with shaking fingers. She holds it out to Beatrice, and that’s the last she sees of either of them. She curls up on the grass and cries, and is still there when A’keria and Silky find her hours later. _

_After a sleepless night, she decides she’s done hiding. She tells her parents that someone stole the necklace from her and that she’ll be visiting the village in royal clothing from now on, ensuring everyone knows who she is and making friends with people so no one will dare rob her again. At least now she’ll know why they’re being kind. She won’t get fooled, won’t think someone could actually like her when she’s not a princess. _

_Her heart is never going to fall in someone’s hands again, no matter what she has to do to keep it in her possession._

—-

“I’m really sorry,” Brooke finally says after she’s done. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry it happened to you.” Her eyes are warm and kind, and Vanessa knows they’ve crossed some invisible line tonight, that they’ve both seen parts of each other they keep hidden from everyone else, and that there’s no breaking this connection they’ve forged. 

“It’s all right. I’ve moved on the best I can.” She sighs. “That’s why I was so mean to you when we first met. I thought you were just another fake nice person. I’m sorry.”

Brooke shakes her head. “I’m sorry too. I put some ridiculous standard on you and decided you didn’t meet it before I even knew you.”

Vanessa reaches over and places her hand on Brooke’s knee. She can feel the smooth skin through Brooke’s thick dress, and she takes a breath. She glances over Brooke’s tired eyes, her full lips, the tiny scar peeking through the concealer. Her heart skips a beat, her stomach feeling light despite all the food she ate. 

A soft meow breaks her concentration, and she spins around to see two cats cuddling on Brooke’s desk chair. She pictures Brooke sitting at that desk, doing work from her lessons and staring out the window at the world, refusing to admit how much she wanted to play in the snow. The thought breaks her heart, and she focuses on the meowing instead. 

“You got cats?”

Brooke blushes. “They’re strays. I found them the other day, and they came back this afternoon. I couldn’t leave them out there alone! Something might have happened.”

Vanessa’s smile turns into a yawn, and the exhaustion plows into her like a carriage as she realizes it’s well past midnight. 

“We should probably sleep,” Brooke suggests.

“Right.” Vanessa’s eyes drift to the bed. 

“I’ll take the sofa,” Brooke offers. 

Vanessa scoffs. “Not with those legs of yours. It’s way too small for you. I’ll take it.”

“Absolutely not, you’re a guest.”

“Then.” Vanessa pauses. “I guess we’ll just have to share the bed.”

Brooke nods and turns down the blankets. “I’ll get you something to sleep in.” She digs in her wardrobe and passes Vanessa a nightgown. 

Vanessa twists her arms all over and whines in frustration when she can’t get her dress off. 

“I’ll take it off for you,” Brooke offers, her long fingers making short work of the ribbons, her breath tickling Vanessa’s neck. 

Brooke turns away and Vanessa steps into the nightgown, even though she wouldn't have minded Brooke seeing her with nothing on. She pushes up the sleeves, which completely cover her hands, and promptly trips over the too-long hem, nearly falling on her face as Brooke suppresses a snort and Vanessa swats at her playfully. 

Brooke retreats to the corner, her long, pale, arms pulling at the strings that close her dress, but Vanessa bats them away and does it for her, Brooke’s posture beginning to stoop with each knot she unties, and Vanessa rushes with warmth that Brooke trusts her enough to let some of the perfection fade. She turns around while Brooke changes, taking in the tower of books beside the sofa and smiling at the image of Brooke reading in front of the fire. 

Brooke is softer and younger in her bright white nightgown. It gives her an angelic look, and Vanessa wishes Brooke could look this carefree and joyful all the time. She motions to the bed with a small smile, and Vanessa follows. 

Brooke’s bed is massive. She slips into one side and Brooke takes the other, and there’s still room for a whole family and maybe even a horse between them. 

“Thank you for staying with me.” Brooke’s voice is just above a whisper. 

“Of course.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

It started snowing again after the feast and the fire in Brooke’s room is dying out, but Vanessa doesn’t think she’s ever been so warm in her life. Brooke’s back is to her and the moonlight slanting through the windows glows on her blonde hair. Vanessa’s heart is fluttering the same way it used to around Beatrice, and she isn’t sure what to do about it. It’s not something she thought she’d feel again, and definitely not for Brooke. But she’s not sure if she can fight it much longer. She spreads her limbs, knowing she is safe here, Brooke too far to touch but close enough to feel her presence. Secure in her blankets, Vanessa slips into the best sleep she’s had in months. 

\---

Vanessa wakes before dawn and finds that one of her legs is tangled up with Brooke’s. And she’s not the only one that’s shifted position. Brooke must have rolled over in the night because she’s turned toward Vanessa, just about a foot away now, and having her face so close knocks the air from Vanessa’s lungs. 

Brooke is sound asleep, getting rest Vanessa knows she desperately needs. All the worries and stresses that line her face in the day, lines she’s too young to have in the first place, have smoothed out, and she looks serene, her sharp edges softened. Her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm that Vanessa finds soothing. Vanessa decides to just leave her leg where it is rather than risk waking Brooke. She’s exhausted enough already. 

Brooke’s hair is messier than she would ever allow, a loose strand falling over her face. Vanessa tucks it behind her ear without even realizing it, the motion almost natural. 

Brooke lets out a soft sigh in her sleep, and Vanessa’s walls crumble down around her. 

Her heart has fallen into Brooke’s hands, and she couldn’t take it back even if she wanted to.

\---

“This next part is tricky,” the correspondent states, “That’s why it will be left to me. The day before, I’m going to plant a fake story about danger at the wedding.”

“But it’s not fake…” the man says slowly.

“No, but she’ll take the bait and tell the king, and no one will believe her. They’ll think she’s just making it up, and then after the wedding…”

“They’ll blame her because she mentioned it happening. They’ll think she planned it and did it out of jealousy, and tried to use the story as a cover.”

“Exactly. And then the blame is on her and not us.”


	7. You Know That I'd Just Die to Make You Proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Vanessa and Brooke spend the night together after a rough feast, and we found out some of Vanessa’s past  
Now: Brooke deals with the aftermath of the night and grapples with her feelings while secret plans take shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! Get ready for some angst in this one! (Seriously, Writ was ready to call the police on me for the angst and feelings) 
> 
> I’d really appreciate any feedback you have! Thank you so much to Writ for being an amazing beta! Chapter title form Love song by Lana Del Rey.
> 
> ***This chapter does have a brief, mild mention of implied homophobia***

Brooke wakes up and Vanessa is in her room. She’s sitting by the fire, stroking the two cats Brooke rescued, and the scene is unexpectedly natural, like Vanessa should have been there all along. 

The previous night rushes at her like a tide. Glass fragments around her feet, her father leaning over as dinner was served and hissing that princesses don’t spill drinks, Thomas yelling that she was a disgrace who didn’t deserve her title, his shouts hurting her ears and stomping on her heart until she blocked them out completely. And then Vanessa coming in to check on her, soothing away her worries and insisting that Brooke was good enough, smile so tender that Brooke found herself believing those words for a second, even if she can’t accept them now, morning illuminating every mistake she made. 

Her body thrums with the need to apologize, regret pouring from every inch of her. How could she have let herself be so needy, so unkempt, in front of Vanessa last night? In such a rough state that Vanessa asked to stay the night to look after her, and she hadn’t even hesitated in agreeing? What must Vanessa think of her? But Vanessa had been in a state herself, telling Brooke about the awful way she’d been used, and Brooke can sense a change in the air, like it would be pointless to hide so much anymore. 

She looks at Vanessa, softened in sunlight, and Brooke understands now that the recklessness and uncaring attitude are just her way of making sure no one does to her what Beatrice did. Brooke wishes she could keep Vanessa safe, give Vanessa the real kind of love she should have. Brooke knows she could give it to her, but she banishes the thought from her mind. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” Vanessa greets her. “Didn’t think you’d sleep later than me, Miss Early Riser,” she teases.

“Sorry to keep you waiting for me.”

“Don’t worry about it. You looked exhausted, I figured you needed the extra sleep.”

Brooke _had_ needed it, though she’s reluctant to admit it. That… panic (Brooke doesn’t know what to call it, and prays she never experiences it again, especially not without Vanessa there to bring her back to shore when she thought she was drowning) that happened after she dropped her glass had left her drained and heavy, but she feels light and fresh now. She can’t remember the last time she slept through the night, or slept past sunrise, and she wonders if it has something to do with having Vanessa in her bed, making her feel strangely safe last night. 

“Thank you again. For staying.”

“It isn’t a problem, Brooke,” Vanessa assures her, petting one of the cats. “I like these cats, by the way. Makes me miss my dog. We had to keep him home because he gets sick in the cold. Have you named them yet?”

“No. I haven’t had time to think of names.”

“I’m thinking Henry for the brown one and Apollo for the gray.”

“Why?”

Vanessa snickers. “Because they’re the only names I remember my tutor saying in my lessons and I like them?”

Brooke laughs with her. “Henry and Apollo it is.”

\---

Vanessa requests that breakfast be brought up to Brooke’s room, and they sit on the sofa, fresh fire crackling in front of them as they chew on toast and sip tea. Brooke wishes they could stay like this, that Vanessa never had to leave, that Brooke could hear her laugh and see her smile and watch her hands fly around when she talks every day. 

Vanessa has an endless supply of stories about her attendants (this morning, Brooke hears about Silky almost choking after putting half an orange in her mouth to win a bet), and as much as Brooke laughs, there’s a strange emptiness in her chest, where stories like this should be inside her if only she had them. 

She knows she was alone throughout her childhood, with books and animals outside for company. But it never occurred to her, not until she began to enjoy the company of Vanessa, that she was also lonely. _Friend_ was just a concept, a foreign word on her tongue. Now, _friend_ means someone to tell things she’s never said before, someone to laugh with over tea, someone that makes her smile, someone she wants by her side always. Now, _friend_ means Vanessa. 

“If you could do anything, what would it be?” Vanessa asks suddenly. 

“You mean if I wasn’t--”

“Yes. If you weren’t a princess, and no one cared what you did, what would you want to do?”

“But I am a princess.” 

“I know, but pretend you’re not.” Vanessa insists.

Brooke doesn’t answer. Why is there any use in pretending, in dreaming up some fantasy life, when there’s no way she could ever have it? Why give herself the dream and make it that much more painful when it won’t come true? 

“What would you want to do?” she diverts. Deferring to Vanessa on questions is what she’s done from the beginning. It started as a way to give her more time to think, but eventually just became an excuse to hear Vanessa’s rough voice faster. 

“Travel,” Vanessa says. 

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I want to see the ocean, and the mountains, and the fields, and the forest--no, not the forest, I don’t want to get eaten by wolves. I want to go to all the places you see on the map, and it wouldn’t matter who I was.”

A mixture of jealousy and sadness sinks into her chest. Vanessa has this entire dream life that she would live if she could, and Brooke has never entertained the idea of something other than what she has. Why hasn’t she, when Vanessa has? What else has she missed out on?

“That’s nice. I hope you get to do it someday. Even just a little bit,” she offers thickly. 

“I hope so too, but you know how it is.” She sighs. “Now you answer.”

But Brooke can’t. Her father said a princess should never leave a question unanswered for too long, but she has no response. What _would_ she want? There’s never been anything but being a princess, never been anything but studying and meetings and feasts. She likes reading and watching animals, but she hasn’t done either of those for her enjoyment since she was ten. 

“I don’t have an answer. I’m sorry.” Her face is getting hot. She’s messed up _again_; a princess is always supposed to have an answer, always supposed to know what to say--

“No, I’m sorry I pushed you. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Anything but the wedding.” Brooke begs. It’s only ten days away now, and every day that tightness in her chest gets wound tighter, like a clock. A clock counting down to the inevitable. 

“Of course.”

And the morning fades into Vanessa’s voice, restoring Brooke with a calmness deep through her body. 

\---

“What’s your favorite memory?” Vanessa asks. They’re in Vanessa’s room, eating lunch sprawled out on her bed. “I can answer first if you want,” she adds. 

But Brooke doesn’t need her to, because she knows this one, and the story comes pouring out. Her favorite memory is when she was five, and Nina--Brooke later understood that Nina did this because her lessons started the next day and Nina wanted her to have a day of fun--brought her to the giant hill that swelled behind the castle and let her go sledding. Brooke’s cheeks were pink with the cold, wind whipping in her ears as she soared down the hill over and over, her laughs carried down to the castle grounds. Nina even built a snowman with her, and when Brooke was soaked with snow and her face was almost frozen from the chill, Nina made her hot chocolate in the kitchen and they baked a cake together. Sometimes Brooke can still smell the rich chocolate of the cake when it came out of the oven, can still feel the warmth of it thawing her frozen nose. 

“That’s really sweet,” Vanessa says, and her eyes are shining. “I’m glad you got to have that.”

Brooke nods, and then a rough sigh passes her lips. 

“What is it?”

“It’s just...I’ve never told anyone all these things I’ve told you. It feels wrong. Princesses don’t talk this much.” Brooke is positive Thomas doesn’t know these things about her, and she doubts her parents do. She leaves out that they had never asked her these things, that Brooke thought they were just a waste of time when Vanessa started with her incessant questions. Now, talking about them with Vanessa is the happiest she’s been in months, maybe even years. She also leaves out that the past days with Vanessa might one day surpass sledding as her favorite memory. 

“There’s nothing wrong with talking about things that make you happy,” Vanessa says quietly. Her hand has crept closer across the bed, and Brooke contemplates how pathetic she would look if she grabs it like a drowning person grabs hold of whatever will keep them afloat. She keeps her hands in her lap; she’ll drown. 

Brooke starts talking again before that sympathy in Vanessa’s eyes turns to pity. “Your turn,” she says. “What’s your favorite memory?”

“It’s...complicated,” Vanessa starts, weighing her words. “It’s not the memory itself, it’s the feeling. Every year on my birthday, my parents would let me go somewhere on my map, as long as we could get there and back in a few days because we couldn’t be away too long. I would spend the whole month before thinking of where to go, what we would do, the food I would eat. The first place I would go was always the candy shop. And every time, just arriving someplace new, not knowing what it would bring or what exciting things would happen...it was the best feeling. It was less about where to go and more about how I would feel being there. That’s what I remember.”

Brooke stays silent for a few seconds, imagining Vanessa exploring new towns and cities and marking them on her map, grinning as she tasted chocolates. “That sounds beautiful,” she says finally. 

“It is. Or well, it was. They stopped when I turned 16. Just too many responsibilities at the castle, you know?”

Brooke nods. 

Vanessa sighs ruefully. “The worst part is, I had that feeling again. With Beatrice, even though she ended up being manipulative and only talked to me to get stuff she wanted. But for a while, with her, I had that feeling that everything was beautiful and anything could happen.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that she took that feeling and ruined it for you.”

“It’s all right. It took me a while. Sometimes I just felt like a toy, like I completely gave myself and everything I had for her and she didn’t even like me. So I started skipping lessons, talking to people, having fun, to try to find it again. And I did. But the truth is…”

“Yes?” Brooke’s heart speeds up in her chest. This side is of Vanessa isn’t one she’s seen, and she recognizes that Vanessa must trust her deeply to be this vulnerable. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt it as much as I do with you.”

Brooke thinks her heart may stop entirely. Her lips curve into a smile. “Me too. I feel it too.” She doesn’t think she could manage anything else, doesn’t have words for how Vanessa makes her want to laugh and hope and dream. 

Brooke reaches her hand toward Vanessa, fingers brushing before curling around each other. 

She stays afloat. 

\---

The moon hangs high in the black sky, and Brooke paces the hallway. 

She had her final wedding dress fitting that morning, and all it did was solidify what’s coming. Being with Vanessa makes her forget it all, makes her look forward to things, but this morning was a reminder that she can’t forget. And there’s nothing to look forward to. 

She needs to stop thinking about Vanessa, picturing her smile, telling her everything. The chapel is already being decorated for the wedding, just a week away, and she needs to spare herself the joy now to spare herself the pain later. Because Vanessa leaves the day after the wedding, and the closer Brooke gets to her, the more it will hurt when they’re miles apart. 

Maybe they can stay friends, write each other letters, try to visit, but Brooke barely expects that much and she doesn’t dare hope for more. By the time Vanessa arrives back in her castle, Brooke will already be buckling under the increased responsibilities of married life, and she’ll be lucky to have time to even _think_ of Vanessa. No, she’ll always have time for that. Brooke won’t ever be able to get that smile, those eyes, that laugh, out of her head. 

Her heart throbs with a feeling it has never felt, one Brooke can’t let herself acknowledge. Because this can’t happen. She knows it can’t and she needs to understand it. And it is this that drives her to the kitchen the next morning to talk to Nina before breakfast, the question tumbling out before she can stop it. 

“Do you remember that candy shop you used to take me to?” Brooke asks as Nina fries eggs. “It was called Scarlet’s Sweets.”

“What about it?” Nina acts casual, but her face is grim. 

“It’s closed now. For a while, by the looks of it. Do you know what happened to it? I can’t remember and it’s been bothering me.” 

The look of fear that crosses Nina’s face unearths the memory from Brooke’s mind. She knows what happened to the shop. She knew all along, but she denied it, just the way she’s been denying how she yearns for Vanessa, how she wants Vanessa’s soft breathing to be her nightly lullaby. She doesn’t need Nina to tell her, but at the same time, she does. She needs someone to tell her that this fluttering in her heart every time she looks at Vanessa, the way Vanessa shines like the sun and makes Brooke warm inside, won’t happen, _can’t_ happen. 

She needs Nina to tell her so she doesn’t have to tell herself. 

Nina leans in and lowers her voice, eyes compassionate and tinged with sadness. “The owner, Scarlet…she was found in bed with another woman. The news spread and it wasn’t safe for her to own it anymore. She went a few countries farther north, I believe.” 

It’s the answer Brooke expects, but it doesn’t make her any less enraged, any less angry with the world. It’s proof that she can’t take this any further, that things will end terribly for both of them, even with their status. It’s proof that her eyes need to stop searching for Vanessa in every room they’re in, that her heart needs to stop fluttering in response to her laughs. 

But as she takes the breakfast tray from Nina, Brooke grins picturing how ecstatic Vanessa will be when she sees the eggs and toast and fruit, and she is unable to follow the very message she is begging herself to accept.

\---

The clock ticks down from weeks to days before the wedding. The flowers are neatly arranged. The guests have started to arrive. The food is being prepared. The plates are laid out in the grand hall. And Brooke can hardly take a breath without her chest collapsing in on itself. 

Vanessa goes to her room to change after breakfast, but Brooke’s hands are trembling and that panic from the feast is clawing at her like a wolf, so she forces herself to get to the one person that can help, pounding her shaky fist on Vanessa’s door. 

Vanessa opens the door, expression instantly clouding with worry. She seats Brooke on the bed and Brooke can’t quite focus on the room, but she latches on to Vanessa’s voice and holds it tight as Vanessa slowly plucks the wolf’s claws out one by one. 

“Are you all right?”

Brooke nods. “Do you want to dance with me?” she blurts, face reddening. “I mean, I have to practice my dance for the wedding, and I was wondering if you’d want to--”

Vanessa grins. “You didn’t even have to ask, Brooke.” 

Vanessa takes her hand and they run down to the portrait room. 

Brooke takes the lead in the dance, Vanessa’s hand slipping into hers and hitting Brooke with a dizziness that has nothing to do with their slow turns and spins around the portrait room. Vanessa grips her shoulder and Brooke lowers a hand to Vanessa’s waist, her body tingling with the touch despite layers of clothing separating her hand and Vanessa’s skin. 

“You’re an amazing dancer,” Vanessa compliments her. 

“Thank you.” Brooke shrugs. “That was one thing I liked when I was younger. I could do it by myself, with no one around...and then I had to do it with other princes at feasts, and everyone watched me, and it just wasn’t fun anymore.”

“I understand. Being a princess is nice, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes it can ruin everything you love. It’ll probably even ruin love itself for me at some point.”

She thinks of Vanessa’s story, how that girl took everything Vanessa had and used it, how she made Vanessa feel like she was nothing. The way her and Vanessa both had to keep these things locked inside because they simply couldn’t talk about them when they had to be perfect for the other nobles. 

“Please don’t blame yourself for Beatrice,” Brooke says, pulling Vanessa into a spin. “She was a horrible person, and she didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you. You deserve someone that loves you for _who_ you are, not _what_ you are.” Her face flushes as she finishes. She’s never said anything like that but she wants Vanessa to hear it. 

Vanessa just bites her lip. Her eyes are damp, and Brooke wonders if there’s something else on her mind. She doesn’t know how to ask. Has she pried too much already?

“Why do you hate it?” Vanessa asks suddenly before Brooke can say anything else. 

“Hate what?”

“Your portrait. My first day here you told me you hated it. Why?”

Brooke swallows hard as her gaze turns to the painting. Her dislike of the portrait is something she doesn’t completely understand herself, and she’s unsure how to put it into words. 

“Because it’s not me. It’s the Brooke my parents want, not the Brooke I am. It’s the spotless Brooke who does what she’s told and acts how she’s supposed to. They made sure the painting was absolutely perfect, not a flaw anywhere, because the real me wasn’t good enough. I mean, I got this scar on my lip playing when I was eight, and they paid the artist extra to leave it out.”

“I’m-”

“But I think I hate it the most because I knew then I was done fighting,” Brooke continues, unable to stop now that she knows she is safe enough to share herself. “It was right after the engagement, and I just sat there for the painting, and didn’t argue about the scar, and I knew I was going to marry Thomas and give my parents what they wanted. Even though I didn’t want to, even if it wouldn’t be enough, I was still going to do it, because I just wanted them to be happy. And I have to think of that every time I look at it.”

They’re not moving anymore, just standing; shoes digging into the plush carpet, hands still against each other’s bodies, hearts beating in time. Brooke can’t believe she’s shared this much, itching for a way to take it all back. Princesses don’t complain, they don’t put their happiness over duty, they don’t--

“Brooke, can I hug you?” Vanessa quiets her worry with hopeful eyes. 

“You want to hug me?” Brooke echoes in disbelief. 

“Yes. Can I? I just think you need it.”

Brooke nods, and then Vanessa’s arms open and hold her, Brooke’s body loosening though she didn’t know it was tense. Vanessa rubs up and down her back in slow circles, and her touch is so soft, so gentle--the way you might stroke a baby bird--that Brooke finds herself trembling beneath it, forcing down a sob at the warmth. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Vanessa’s voice is worried. 

Brooke’s face scrunches up, because she doesn’t want Vanessa to stop. Doesn’t want her to ever stop. How needy would Vanessa think she is, if she told her that she wants her here for the rest of her life? 

But it’s just a thought, and that’s all it ever can be. A thought can be pushed down, locked inside, unknown to anyone but her. She can do no such thing if that thought becomes words. 

“Please don’t stop,” Brooke breathes. She lowers her head to see Vanessa gazing up at her. Her brown eyes are wide and dripping with love that sinks into Brooke through Vanessa’s hands on her back.

_I love you_, Brooke thinks. _I love you the way flowers love the sun_. It’s a thought, and nothing more. A thought; a bird whose wings are clipped before it can take flight. 

“I need to tell you something.” Vanessa takes a breath. “Brooke, I-”

“No.” Brooke doesn’t mean to stop her, doesn’t _want_ to stop her, would give her throne to hear the rest of that sentence, but she can't. Because she knows what those words will be, and once Brooke hears them, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to give her life to Thomas. Not when she knows that life could be spent with Vanessa. 

“I-I’m sorry. I--” she pulls away from the hug, pulls away from the life she wants so badly it hurts. 

“Brooke.”

“I’m sorry.”

She runs, and a harsh sound tears itself from her throat--a sob. She’s sobbing. Her vision is blurred by tears as she runs to her room, sinking to the floor and gasping between sobs. 

Her chest burns and her shoulders tremble. She hasn’t cried since she was six years old. 13 years of choking back sadness and pain and anger, letting it all fester inside. Poisoning her from the inside out. 

_Brooke runs to her parents' room, wildflowers dangling from her grasp as she chases afternoon sun beaming through the windows. The door is closed, and she’s not allowed to go in without asking. Her name being spoken on the other side stops her hand before she can knock. _

_“The tutor said Brooke did well with her reading lessons yesterday.” Her mother’s voice. She sounds hopeful. _

_“She should be doing better.” Her father. Brooke can tell he’s angry. She knows she should leave but her feet are stuck to the floor. _

_“Well, she just turned six, I’m sure she’ll improve--”_

_“I read more than she did at five. She’s going to be queen someday. She has to be perfect. She’s a Hytes.”_

_It’s quiet for a second, and then her father speaks again. “Not that it truly matters. After all, she’s not a son.”_

She’s not a son.

_The wildflowers slip through her fingers. They flutter to the floor without a sound, unnoticed in their descent, their beauty to be trodden on later, and Brooke considers how alike they are._

She’s not a son.

_Brooke’s face is soaked with tears she doesn’t quite understand as she stumbles to her room._

Did that mean her parents didn’t want her? 

_Her bed swallows her whole. She buries her face in her pillow, long saturated with tears from endless dinners where her parents inquired about her lessons and barely nodded as Brooke told them about the new rabbit she saw that day, or how Nina had let her help make bread. She throws her heavy blankets over herself, not even leaving room for her head. Like a cocoon. Maybe when she came out of it she’d be a son like her father wanted. _

_She cries until her eyes and nose are raw, until she can’t anymore, until she falls into a restless sleep interrupted by someone banging on her door. _

_For just a second, she hopes it’s her parents, coming to check on her because they’d noticed she was quiet today. Noticed she was upset. Noticed her at all._

_But the door swings open to reveal a guard that escorts her to dinner. _

_Both of her parents look at her red, puffy eyes, gazes so sharp Brooke wants to cry again but doesn’t have any tears left. _

_They haven’t been served yet, but she’s drawn to a flash of orange at her chair, sees the plate someone prepared for her: crispy roast chicken and a pile of carrots. Brooke’s stomach churns. She_ hates _carrots, had pushed away a bowl of them last night, and she knows her parents set the plate to make her eat them. _

_“Princesses don’t cry,” her father reprimands finally. “And they aren’t late to dinner. Sit down and act properly. Don’t slouch.”_

_In that moment, Brooke made two vows. The first was that she would be perfect. If she couldn’t be a son, she would be a perfect daughter. She read charts and maps and histories until the pages blurred. She practiced dancing until her feet bled, moving with the grace of a swan as her mind gratefully cleared for a few hours. She pronounced each letter when she spoke and conversed with lords without a stutter. She was permitted to practice archery, bulls-eyes filling her vision, but denied swordplay after slicing a thin cut above her lip with a practice blade, which her parents lamented had ruined her appearance. Every passage her eyes swam over, every spin on her toes, every clear greeting, every release of the arrow, were to become the perfect child her father wanted. She hoped it was enough. _

_The second was that she wouldn’t cry again. And she didn’t. She didn’t cry when she was seven and found a bird with a broken wing that she carried to Nina, wanting so badly to help it fly and be free again, only for the bird to succumb to its injuries. She didn’t cry when she was 10 and her horse threw her off, hardly able to breathe without pain from her cracked rib bolting through her body. She didn’t cry when she was 14 and a prince pulled her into a closet and bruised her lips with a kiss, or when her engagement to him was announced years later. She didn’t cry every time her father told her to do better, didn’t cry as her mother let him, didn’t cry when they ignored her in favor of their duties._

She hasn’t cried until now, every tear she kept locked inside the past 13 years streaming down her face as she realizes that while she’s getting married, the person she truly loves will be sitting in the audience. 

\---

“Everything set to proceed as planned?” the man confirms. 

“Yes.” The correspondent smiles. “Tomorrow, I plant the fake story and watch the pieces fall.” 

“Excellent.”

“Now,” the correspondent says, lifting his glass, “A toast. To one dead princess…”

“...And to one princess to take the blame for it.”


	8. Is It Safe To Just Be Who We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke ran away before she could share her feelings with Vanessa  
Now: The wedding *cue suspense music*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your amazing comments. Each one really does mean a lot to me and keeps me going during rough writing patches. Please leave some feedback on this one, I really do appreciate it. Writ is the best beta I could ask for, and also they were ready to fight me after this one so I apologize in advance. Chapter title from Love song by Lana Del Rey.
> 
> *There is mild violence and blood*

All Vanessa sees when she closes her eyes is Brooke’s scared face running away from her. 

Brooke had locked herself in her room after they danced and didn’t come out until dinner, and no matter how well she composed herself, Vanessa knew she had been crying. She talked to Vanessa at dinner like nothing happened, and Vanessa went along with it.

Her heart is breaking, not because Brooke _doesn’t_ love her, but because Vanessa knows she does but can’t admit it. She knows from the way Brooke looks at her, the smiles no one but Vanessa sees, how Brooke lets herself be vulnerable around her. There’s a small patch of guilt in Vanessa’s mind for (almost) throwing her confession of love at Brooke when she knows damn well Brooke isn’t in a position to say it back, no matter how much Vanessa wishes Brooke could. She’s angry, not at Brooke, but at the world, at the circumstances, forcing them apart. Some wishes just can’t come true. 

But Brooke fills her with the hope and joy of long, hot summers, and Vanessa dreams something can blossom. Brooke is a flower she wants to turn toward the sun and protect from the storm while she marvels at the beauty as she blooms and grows. She can’t tear her eyes away from Brooke when they’re together, can’t touch her hand or see her smile without feeling like she’s been struck by lightning. 

She can’t even think about returning home and going back to a life without Brooke, and as the time until the wedding gets smaller, the hole in her chest gets bigger.

She buries the _I love you_ she longs to say deep inside, having breakfast and lunch with Brooke and talking about anything she can think of to avoid the wedding, which takes its toll on Brooke as the days go by. There’s a grayish tinge to her skin and deep circles under her eyes. She stops smiling and only manages a few words while she picks at her food. She stares blankly into space during their conversations and sheepishly asks Vanessa to repeat herself. She's losing more of Brooke each day, but there’s nothing she can do. 

—-

“My parents said I probably have to start thinking of an engagement when we get home,” Vanessa admits over breakfast one morning, unable to keep the horror inside anymore and seeking the one person who can understand. 

“I’m so sorry.” Brooke reaches her hand out and Vanessa takes it to keep herself together. 

“I know there isn’t much I can do, but I’m going to try to get out of it.” She bites her lip, forcing the tears to stay in.

The sheer intensity of her relationship with Brooke slams into her as she confesses this. In just a few weeks, she has given Brooke more of herself than she’s let anyone see in over a year, and she suspects the same is true of Brooke. But with Beatrice, where the more Vanessa gave, the smaller she became, Vanessa only feels stronger the more she shares with Brooke. 

“You should try,” Brooke agrees. “Don’t…” she pauses, and for a second she thinks Brooke is going to warn Vanessa not to be like her, but the words Brooke does say break her heart even more.

“Don’t let yourself have anything less than the happiness and love you deserve,” Brooke states. 

Vanessa can’t hold back the tears anymore, because it’s all so unfair. Brooke is telling Vanessa that she deserves more when Brooke deserves more too and won’t let herself believe it because it would only make everything hurt worse. Brooke just places a soft hand on her shoulder and lets her cry. 

—-

Despite all her fantasies that it wouldn’t arrive, it’s the day before the wedding, and Vanessa’s trying not to think of how this is her last breakfast with Brooke when she leaves her room. 

But the thought flies out of her mind when she sees two tall figures going down the stairs. The hoods of their cloaks are up, and she can’t identify their voices. There shouldn’t be anyone here; her and Brooke are the only ones in their wing of the castle (her heart lifts every time she calls it _theirs_), and Vanessa can’t resist the curiosity. She sneaks after them, holding her breath a few stairs behind. 

“I hear he’s the best marksman in the country,” the first man says. 

Marksman? What are they talking about? She creeps down a few more steps, unable to stop now. 

“That’s what I heard,” agrees the second. “I’m not sure how much I trust his word, of course, to be bragging about it in public.”

Bragging about what? They’re almost at the bottom of the stairs, and she won’t be able to follow much longer. But they’re talking about a marksman, and why would they talk about that if something dangerous isn’t involved?

“Not really bragging,” the first man corrects. “Just been telling some of us pub regulars about his plans for the Ice Princess.”

_Brooke_. A shiver runs down her spine and blood pounds in her ears. Something is going to happen to Brooke, and from this discussion, it can’t be good. Can she believe them, though? She’s learned to be suspicious over the past year, to question everything she hears and sees. But can she take that chance if--her heart clenches--something might happen to Brooke?

“I’m afraid I’m not privy to pub secrets. Care to enlighten me?” the second man asks. 

“Well,” the first man whispers, “He’s been saying he’s got an arrow with the Ice Princess’ name on it as a wedding gift.”

A cold wave washes over Vanessa, her heart racing so fast it might pop out of her chest, as the men head into the hallway. Her hand slams against the wall to steady herself. _Someone is going to kill Brooke_. 

But she has to consider the facts first, with a wariness now ingrained in her. She doesn’t have any idea who these men are, or if they can be believed. And surely someone planning a murder wouldn’t _tell_ people about it. 

But. 

It’s Brooke. 

_Her_ Brooke, who gets her candy everyday and watches eagerly to see if she likes it. Who asks every morning if Vanessa is warm enough and lets Vanessa borrow her scarf. Who allows Vanessa to see underneath the layers of polish and perfection she wears to protect herself against her parents’ expectations. Who makes Vanessa feel the first honest love she’s experienced. 

Even if this is fake, it has to be better to be cautious. Vanessa knows the king and queen aren’t overly affectionate toward Brooke--or even kind to her--but they wouldn’t really take a chance on their daughter's safety, would they? She has to tell them. She’s not willing to stay silent on the chance this is fake, not when Brooke--her entire heart--is at risk. 

She sprints to her parents’ room. “Get the king and queen. We need to have a meeting _now_.”

—-

“Now, let me see if I’m hearing this correctly,” the king states with deep annoyance. “You’re claiming you overheard two people--people you cannot identify--stating that they heard a person make a threat towards Brooke at the wedding? And they said the person made this threat in a _public_ place?” He looks at her with such scorn, poking holes in her story so effortlessly, that Vanessa finds _herself_ doubting it for a second. But she knows what she heard. 

“I realize there’s not a lot of evidence,” she concedes, “But I believe it’s true. I think someone is going to go after Brooke tomorrow.”

Brooke sits next to Thomas. She hasn’t said a word, her mask firmly in place, so seamless not even Vanessa can tell what she’s feeling.

Thomas speaks up with a smirk, “Rather convenient of you to hear such a story the day before the wedding. Jealous of all the attention Brooke’s receiving, perhaps? Not to mention it’s quite a poorly-conceived story at that. One might wonder if you were planning something yourself.”

The blood rushes to her face. “What are you--”

“That’s quite an accusation,” Vanessa’s mother interjects. “Surely you’re not insinuating _my_ daughter is planning to attack Brooke tomorrow?”

“That is a serious allegation,” King Richard agrees. “Do you have evidence for this claim, Thomas?”

Thomas smiles charmingly, waving his hands in innocence. Vanessa has to grab the table to keep from throwing herself at him. 

“Please don’t think I’m insinuating anything,” he begins. “I’m not accusing Vanessa by any means. I was merely stating that bringing up a murder plot is an excellent way to cover one’s own.”

“It sounds like you’re accusing me of murder!” Vanessa delights in the slam of her fist on the table, consequences not even a thought now. 

The king pipes up again, “I think--”

“Father, I-I believe her.” The small voice silences the yelling.

Everyone turns to the source, Brooke’s cheeks flaming red. 

“Brooke--”

“Please, I think you should listen to her.” Brooke says, a bit louder this time. 

Vanessa can’t even imagine what it’s costing Brooke to stand up to her father like this, how much courage she has within her. _I’m not getting in trouble for you_, Brooke had said their first day, and here she is risking trouble and more to defend Vanessa. Even though Brooke can’t say the words, this is the greatest declaration of love she could offer, and Vanessa would cry if it wouldn’t make Thomas paint her as hysterical. 

King Richard stands as he opens his mouth, and Vanessa knows whatever comes out will be bad. “You will listen to me, Brooke. I know you had your reservations about the wedding, but supporting this fake murder plot...I won’t stand for this.” He motions to his guards. “Take the princess to her room and stand guard outside. I’d like her kept there until tomorrow for her safety.”

He sighs, and Vanessa understands that this is less about Brooke’s safety and more about locking her away so she doesn’t cause any trouble, the whole command tingling with implications that he wants Brooke away from _her_. How could Vanessa have thought the king would believe her? He’s more concerned about them questioning his authority than he is about something happening to his own daughter. 

The two head guards appear on either side of Brooke, who is unnaturally small next to their hulking armor. She glances over at Vanessa with such sorrow and regret that her heart shatters into pieces as Brooke is led out of the room without a sound. 

“I think that’s best for her safety,” Thomas agrees. “Resting for the day will be good for her too. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Too much excitement for her, if you ask me. I’d hate for her to get ill right before the wedding.”

_She hasn’t been sleeping well because of_ you! Vanessa clamps down on her lip to hold in the scream. 

The meeting is dismissed, and she follows numbly after her parents, her heart already having left the room. 

—-

“You believe me, don’t you?” Vanessa asks her parents as soon as she’s inside their room. She doesn’t know if she can possibly take this if even her own parents think she’s making it up. 

“Of course we do. We know you wouldn’t lie about something like that.” her mother soothes her worries, brushing her hair off her face.

“But this isn’t our kingdom, and we can’t do anything here,” her father adds. “The decisions are with the king and queen.”

“But something’s going to happen to Brooke and no one even cares! She’s going to get hurt, or-or...” the rest is too terrible to speak. 

“Vanessa, what’s bringing this on? Why are you so upset? I know she’s your friend, but...” her mother trails off in concern and Vanessa discovers that she’s crying, thick tears rolling down her face. 

Some of her tears are fueled by anger, because this whole day lies in ruins at her feet. She was supposed to have breakfast with Brooke, and Vanessa was going to give Brooke her flowered bracelet so Brooke had something to remember her by, but now the king thinks Vanessa’s making false threats and Brooke is locked away and Vanessa will be lucky if she gets to say goodbye. 

“Because I love her,” she breathes. That wasn’t supposed to happen like this, either; she certainly wasn’t going to tell her parents here, if she ever mustered up the courage to tell them at all. But the whole day is an avalanche, and she’s stuck in its path as all her plans are dismantled and every emotion in her swirls around helplessly. 

“I love her,” she repeats. “And I don’t want to marry some prince, because I’ll never love anyone but her.”

Their eyes stare straight through her and she shivers in the silence. Is this how Brooke feels all the time when people look at her? “Please say something,” she begs. 

“You’ve been so happy lately, and I had a feeling that was why.” Her mother smiles and Vanessa’s knees buckle from relief, dropping her into a plush chair. “If you love her, that’s who you love,” her mother states. “You don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to.”

She lets herself be pulled into her mother’s arms and cries until there’s nothing left in her but the burning desire to see Brooke. 

—-

Her first stop is the kitchen, in desperate hope that Nina can help somehow. 

“Did you hear?” she asks without greeting. “Brooke is locked in her room until tomorrow.”

“I heard.” Nina nods seriously.

“It’s so unfair. I’m the one that told him and he took it out on her. And now everyone thinks I’m lying.”

“The king hasn’t always made the best decisions when it comes to Brooke,” Nina admits, voice hushed. 

“That’s an understatement.”

Nina purses her lips. “Take this.” A warm package tumbles into Vanessa’s hand. “It’s a honey cake. They’re Brooke’s favorite.” Nina’s expression is soft and tender, radiating real compassion for Brooke, and Vanessa recalls Brooke saying that Nina was more of a parent to her than the king and queen. 

“What about the guards?” Vanessa asks. 

“Just tell them I sent you. They won’t question me,” Nina says confidently. 

“Thank you.”

“Vanessa,” Nina begins, tone serious, “This gets you to Brooke’s door. If there’s something you’d like to say to her, now might be your best chance.” 

Vanessa looks into Nina’s eyes, deep with knowing. Nina’s watched over Brooke her whole life, after all, and Vanessa isn’t surprised she’s figured it out.

“Thank you, Nina. Really.”

Nina nods, and Vanessa can tell she has more to say. 

“Vanessa?”

“Yes?”

Nina steps closer. “Brooke was such a happy child. Always very quiet, but happy. She loved watching the birds and rabbits and helping me in the kitchen. Then her princess duties and lessons hit hard, and it’s like the joy just left her, bit by bit. Vanessa, the way Brooke is with you...I haven’t seen her smile so much in years. It’s like you brought some joy back to her.” She sighs. “I wish things could be different.” 

Nina doesn’t elaborate any further, but Vanessa knows exactly what she means.

“You and me both, Nina.”

—-

Nina’s name is enough to get Vanessa past the guards, but then it’s just her and the door and she wants to throw up. What is she going to say? What if Brooke didn’t want to talk to Vanessa after her outburst got Brooke locked in her room? 

“Brooke?” She knocks softly. “Brooke, it’s me.”

A few seconds later, long, pale fingers peek out from under the door, a hoarse voice greeting her. 

Has Brooke been crying? Is she scared of what might happen tomorrow? Vanessa wants to bust the door apart and pull Brooke into a hug, tell her everything will be fine even if she can’t believe it herself. 

“Are you all right?” Vanessa asks. She touches the tips of her fingers to Brooke’s to prove that she’s there, the act calming her despite what she’s about to do. She presses her cheek against the cool door and pictures Brooke doing the same on the other side, long legs folded up, their love leaving imprints on both sides of the wooden barrier. Mere inches of polished oak separate them but it might as well be a whole country.

“Yes. I’m sorry about earlier, with my father. I should’ve done more, I--”

“Don’t worry about it. There was nothing you could have done.” Vanessa tucks her bracelet inside the wrapping on the cake in case she doesn’t get another chance. She positions the package under the door and pushes it through. “The cake is from Nina, if you get hungry. The other thing is from me,” she explains, and she hopes Brooke is smiling on the other side. 

“Thank you.”

Vanessa takes a breath and fixes her hair, grateful at least Brooke can’t see how red her face is. “I need to tell you something. You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear it. Brooke, I...after everything, I gave up on thinking I would ever love someone again. But you proved me wrong. I love you, and I know we’ll be apart, but I won’t ever stop loving you, and I’m going to do everything I can to keep seeing you because I won’t--I _can’t_\--lose you, Brooke.”

Her eyes are damp when she’s done, and the silence on the other side of the door is deafening. 

“Vanessa?” Brooke asks just when Vanessa is ready to give up. 

“Yes?”

“I-I love you too. I--”

“That’s enough time with the princess. Thomas says she needs her rest,” a gruff voice says, one of the guards forcing her up off the floor. She can hear Brooke calling for her, voice building with worry, fists pounding on the door, as the guard leads her to her room. 

Vanessa slams her door shut, and the day passes from morning to night as she lays in bed, a cloud hanging over her like she’s waiting for the end of the world. She doesn’t move, doesn’t think she could if she wanted to. She lies and says she’s ill to avoid going to dinner, to avoid having to put on a smile and talk politely when she wants to shove Thomas out the window and run him over with a horse for good measure. It isn’t even a lie, because her stomach churns like the sea in a storm and her limbs are leaden and everything hurts the way it does during an illness. 

At some point the night blurs into sleep, only to be haunted by dreams where an arrow flies into Brooke’s heart, the point bursting through her pale skin and blood trickling from the wound as she mouths _I love you_.

But no matter how many times it loops through Vanessa’s mind, tearing cries from her throat, she can’t see who’s wielding the bow.

—-

Vanessa is awake when A’keria and Silky pound on her door early the next morning, having refused to go back to sleep when she woke up crying after one of the endless dreams. Staying awake was the only way she could keep Brooke alive in her mind. 

She’s in a daze as her hair is twisted into ornate braids and her limbs are pushed through the red fabric of her dress, the jewels and fabrics stitching her back up after yesterday tore her heart out, holding her together after she fell apart as Brooke’s blood stained her dreams last night. 

“Hurry up!” A’keria urges, handing Vanessa her shoes. 

“What’s the rush? The wedding’s still two hours away.” If only there was some way she could stop time and live out an entire life with Brooke before those two hours are up. 

“We talked to Plastique and got you five minutes with Brooke. Face-to-face.” Silky brags. 

Vanessa almost tumbles over her own feet as she runs to the hall. Plastique is outside Brooke’s room, motioning for her to hurry inside. She slips past Plastique with a grateful nod and then it’s just her and Brooke and she can’t breathe. 

Brooke is staring out the window, cats on the seat beside her. A white dress flows down her tall frame, snowflakes embroidered into the top half and tiny pearls stitched all over the bottom half, reflecting the sunlight. Her blonde hair waves loosely around her shoulders, small strands pulled back and braided. 

“Brooke?” Vanessa chokes out. 

Brooke turns around and Vanessa is overtaken by her, heart skipping a beat before resuming its rhythm. Plastique did an excellent job with the concealer, but Vanessa takes one look into Brooke’s eyes and knows she didn’t get a second of sleep last night. Her gaze drops to Brooke’s hands and she almost melts at her bracelet resting there, bright against Brooke’s skin.

“Are you really here?” Brooke asks, voice cracking. “I don’t think even my mind is cruel enough to dream you up.”

“I’m here. It’s really me, I promise.”

Brooke throws her arms around Vanessa with a bone-crushing grip Vanessa suspects is to keep herself upright. 

“I’m not going to pretend this is anything other than terrible,” Vanessa says quietly, “But for what it’s worth, you do look beautiful. This whole thing, it’s just--”

“It could be worse.” She can tell Brooke is trying to convince herself of it, repeating it over and over to keep from falling into a despair that she can’t pull herself out of.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still terrible. There’s a lot of terrible things that could be worse, but they’re still terrible.”

“I know,” Brooke says softly. 

It’s quiet and Vanessa burns with regret for dismantling the one thing keeping Brooke together. She wishes, more than anything, so fiercely her body aches with it, that she could give Brooke the love she deserves. 

“I need to tell you something.” Brooke pulls away from the hug but keeps her hands on Vanessa’s forearms. “Vanessa, I didn’t think I would ever feel the kind of happiness I feel with you. And I’m so grateful I got to know you, and become your friend, and-and love you. I love you, Vanessa. I’ve known for a while, but I was too scared to admit it, to let myself love you. That’s why I ran away, and I’m sorry. But I’ll do my best to stay in contact with you, and I’ll visit, I promise. I will always love you and be there with you. Please don’t forget me.”

“Never. I could never forget you,” Vanessa sniffles. “I love you, and I always will, whatever happens. Just look at the sun and think of me, and I’m with you.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Brooke crosses over to her desk and pulls out a box. “I hope you like this. I know it can’t replace yours, but I thought you might like to have one again.”

Vanessa opens the box and gasps as her eyes well up with tears. A sun necklace smiles up at her, twinkling in the light. It's not the exact one she had, but it’s even more special because this one is from Brooke, the only person who knows the truth, the only person who has seen all the parts she’s hidden and still loves her for them. 

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes, unable to say anything else. How could she possibly have the words to say that it gives her hope and makes her think she and Brooke will get their happy ending?

“May I?” Brooke asks, gesturing to the necklace. 

Vanessa nods, and Brooke’s hands are fastening the clasp, and Vanessa feels like part of her old self is back. Brooke is still behind her, breath tickling her skin, and then cool lips press against the back of her neck and a shiver travels through Vanessa’s body. 

Vanessa spins around and looks up into Brooke’s eyes, the green reminding her of the fields back home. Maybe one day, Brooke can be her home, too. 

“Would it be all right if I kissed you?” Brooke’s voice quirks up with hope. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She leans up as Brooke leans down and an explosion hits her body when they meet in the middle. She presses against Brooke’s lips and grabs her waist, desperation pouring out of her as they continue to embrace, trying to get an entire lifetime of love and kisses into this one moment. 

Pounding on the door tears them apart. 

“Hurry up, V!” Silky hisses. “It’s been way more than five minutes.”

It feels like no time at all has passed, but even five hours wouldn’t have been enough for Vanessa. 

“I guess I have to go.”

“Right,” Brooke agrees. “Oh, one more thing. I meant to ask you yesterday, but do you think you could take Henry and Apollo back with you? T-Thomas found out about them, and he doesn’t like cats, and my father says I have to learn to compromise. I know they’d be happy with you, and have a nice home with someone who loves them.”

There’s defeat and hurt in the slump of Brooke’s shoulders, her voice seconds away from tears that Vanessa might echo. Brooke has played with those cats every day since she found them, burying her fingers in their fur at breakfast. She told Vanessa they even slept curled against her legs at night, and Vanessa was comforted that Brooke would at least have the cats when she got lonely. She hates to be the one to take them from her, but she vows to give those cats every ounce of love Brooke did, and then some. 

“Of course I will. I’ll take good care of them, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Another knock rings out. “Vanessa, we need to go now.” A’keria’s urgency seeps into the room. 

“I love you,” Vanessa says again, praying it won’t be the last time.

“I love you too,” Brooke says, and Vanessa can tell she’s offering up the same prayer. 

—-

Vanessa’s next to her parents in an uncomfortable chapel pew in the second row, eyes darting around. There’s guards stationed at each corner and at the door, but what if they aren’t enough? Everything _does_ seem calm, bright blue and white flowers arranged through the chapel, chatter ringing around her, but there’s a deep unease in her bones and she can’t relax. 

The men she saw said something about an arrow. She has to believe what she heard is true because she knows no one else does. Where would someone planning to shoot an arrow hide? They’d have to be somewhere high, somewhere unseen, somewhere unguarded--_the music loft_. 

_No one will see us up here, I promise_, Brooke’s words echo in her mind. The music loft Brooke had taken her to, a place she could tell was special to Brooke, a place she could tell Brooke felt safe in. Now that safety is going to be ripped away from her. 

But when would they strike? Who hired them? And why at the wedding? Surely there were other times, other ways, the assassin could have killed Brooke. They could have slipped her poison, or chosen someplace more open than this, where it would be easy to vanish into a crowd. There has to be something important about doing it during the wedding, then. But what?

The music starts as Brooke walks down the aisle and Vanessa can’t bear to watch her princess face arranged blankly the way everyone wants it, eyes downcast as she approaches Thomas. Instead, she fills her head with how Brooke would shine and glow if she were walking down the aisle to marry Vanessa instead of that controlling, cat-hating, social-climbing, pretend king.

Pretend king...

Something snaps within her, and it all comes whirring into focus. 

Who met with people in the pub? Thomas. 

Who made sure no one believed her when she told them of the threat? Thomas. 

Her heart pounds. Could she have it wrong? Could she still be seeing suspicions where there aren’t any, missing the real danger somewhere else?

But one last question passes through her mind, and the answer chills her like ice. 

If Brooke dies, who is heir to the throne? 

_Thomas_. 

Everything falls into place, pieces she hadn’t even known were in play coming to complete the picture. That’s why they had to wait for the wedding. If Brooke dies after their marriage is sealed, all Thomas has to do is get the king and queen out of the way, and the throne is his. _He_ had probably made the fake threat that day. He made sure Vanessa would hear, knowing she would tell the king, and then twisted it around to make it seem like _she_ was going to attack Brooke. 

_Pushed hard for the alliance...wanted to have you and your family here_...Thomas had wanted them here early all along, had wanted to make it plausible that Vanessa had enough time to plot against Brooke, so he could pin the blame on her. 

He’s going to kill Brooke, and Vanessa is going to be the main suspect for Brooke’s murder. He had probably been so rude toward her family, arguing over the alliance, so it looked like she had a motive. _Jealous of all the attention Brooke’s receiving_… another false motive he planted. And no one will ever believe her. Not against him. She had played right into his hands. Someone’s toy, once again. 

Vanessa is steaming with anger, smoke threatening to rise out of her head, but there’s no time for rage now. She has to find a way to save Brooke.

But what is she going to do?

The helplessness rises above her and she’s drowning. Her parents don’t have any authority here. If she interrupts the wedding, no one will listen, and things will only get worse for her and Brooke. The only person that would support her is saying her vows to the very man plotting to kill her. 

Another trap with no escape. 

Everyone applauds around her as the marriage is official, but Vanessa is numb. The organ is a faint buzzing in her ear, colors dull around her, and it’s only when things go silent that she notices the music has stopped. 

Because the assassin killed the organist…

There’s no time. If he’s up there, the arrow is going to fly soon, and Vanessa can see Brooke’s life and everything she’s dreamed of ending in the time it takes the arrow to complete its path. Vanessa runs, everything disappearing as she rushes toward Brooke in the center of the altar, probably placed there by Thomas. 

Time slows down, and it feels like she’s moving through quicksand. Shouts erupt as she runs, but she can’t take her eyes off Brooke, whose eyes widen in fear as Vanessa gets closer.

Pain shoots through her arm and her dress rips as something whizzes by her, but the pain can’t slow her as she tackles Brooke, landing on top of her white dress as they slam against the floor. 

Vanessa’s arm is burning, blood running down her sleeve and dripping onto Brooke’s dress like a field of tiny roses, but Vanessa doesn’t care. She needs to see if Brooke is all right, if she made it in time.

“Brooke?”

The floor is shifting beneath Vanessa, her vision blurring and making her dizzy, the burning in her arm sharper. Something is very wrong, but Brooke...Brooke looks up at her, and her smile turns to a cough, face twisting with pain. 

And then she sees the arrow sticking out of Brooke’s chest, a thin line of blood trickling from it as Brooke mouths _I love you_. 

Except this time isn’t a dream.


	9. Would Like to Think That You Would Stick Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: The murder plot came to pass at the wedding  
Now: The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the last chapter is here and I’m very emotional. I never expected to like this fic as much as I did, but I’ve loved writing it and hearing all your feedback! I would really appreciate any feedback you have for this last chapter! Thank you all for taking this ride with me. And one last thank you to Writ. You always supported this, brainstormed ideas with me, beta-ed, and encouraged me to do things I was afraid of with this. You make me a better writer, and this fic would not be what it is without you.  
Chapter title from Love song by Lana del Rey.

The day speeds through Brooke’s mind like glimpses of the trees when Nina took her sledding all those years ago in the time it takes her to fall. 

Her rushed meeting with Vanessa, trying to make Vanessa feel all her love with one kiss, in case she didn’t get another. Thomas grabbing her arm hard enough to bruise and saying she’d better not embarrass him today. Her father instructing her to act properly. Her mother staying silent. 

Brooke’s back hits the floor as pain explodes in her chest; an arrow protrudes from her dress and it hurts so bad she wants to cry, but can’t with all these people around to see her so weak.

Guards run and people scream but Brooke doesn’t know why, can’t see with the pain sending white spots through her vision. 

“Brooke?” A worried voice rings above her. 

_Vanessa_. 

Vanessa is on top of her, looking down in horror. Her sun necklace--the one Brooke had specially made by the village jeweler--swings from her neck, and in Brooke’s hazy, bleary-eyed state, it looks like the real thing. She imagines she and Vanessa having a picnic in the sun someday. Brooke smiles at her; she smiles every time she sees Vanessa, and the pain wrenches a harsh cough from her throat.

Vanessa’s face is pure white and she’s trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. Is she scared? Brooke wants to fight Vanessa’s fears and keep her safe, but her arms are made of stone and she can’t lift them to wipe Vanessa’s tears. She tries to comfort Vanessa with an _I love you_ instead, but her throat dries up and all that emerges is the barest whisper. 

The world fades as pain grips her tighter, her arms and legs burning. She keeps forcing her eyes open, getting brief peeks of Vanessa in between heavy, sleep-fogged blinks, and the last thing she sees before the darkness takes over is a dagger twinkling in Thomas’ hand as he plunges it into Vanessa’s chest. 

—-

Brooke opens her eyes into darkness. 

She’s in her bed, and that should comfort her, but it’s wrong. It’s too empty, the mattress as vast and unknowable as the sea around her, and she’s struggling to keep her head above the tide.

Her body is so _heavy_, like her bones have been replaced with metal. She can’t sit up, can’t even lift her head off the pillow. She imagines that the inside of her head looks like early morning fog misting over the castle grounds, clouding the events that brought her here.

_Vanessa was scared of something_, she thinks, _but what?_ The heaviness hits her eyes and she’s just too tired to think, too tired to keep her eyes open. Maybe Vanessa won’t mind if Brooke takes a nap for a little while?

Brooke floats into sleep and chases after Vanessa in her dreams. 

\---

When Brooke wakes the second time, Vanessa is there, all her dreams come true as she shines in the darkness of the room. 

Vanessa is here, and whatever happened can’t be that bad. Brooke can manage anything with Vanessa by her side, and her heart slows as Vanessa’s presence fills her. 

Brooke wants to hold Vanessa’s hand, feel the warmth of her short fingers, the way they give Brooke a sense of hope, of courage. She takes a breath and wills her arm to move. 

Agony bolts through her body as she forces her arm off the mattress, slow and trembling on its way to Vanessa--

But all she meets is empty space. 

Vanessa isn’t here. 

Brooke should have expected to be alone. She shouldn’t feel like her heart’s being ripped out, shouldn’t have a dampness in her eyes that she forces away (_princesses don’t cry_). She’s alone, and she always will be.

But _why_ isn’t Vanessa here? Brooke is hurt somehow; there’s bandages wrapped around her chest and each breath is ragged, so is Vanessa hurt too? Brooke can’t stand the thought. Vanessa has been hurt enough, and Brooke wants to protect her so no one can hurt her or make her feel small again. 

More ideas emerge, and she realizes why Vanessa isn’t there: It’s after the wedding. One of the last things she remembers is that ring on her finger, a chain she couldn’t escape from, which means the wedding is over and Vanessa went home. Of course she did. Vanessa has her own kingdom, her own responsibilities, and Vanessa’s parents had probably made her leave right away. How could Brooke have been foolish enough to dream of Vanessa staying? Of them having a life together?

But Brooke didn’t even get to say goodbye, and she’ll probably never see Vanessa again. The ache in her chest consumes her at the realization, forcing a whimper from her lips and tears from her eyes, her sorrow outweighing any embarrassment.

The room’s inky darkness slithers inside and hunts for her fears, and she shivers under its gaze. It hisses that she’s a failure, a disappointment who doesn’t deserve Vanessa, that no wonder her father wished for a son when he got someone as worthless as her. Brooke has never been afraid of the dark. She was usually wide-awake in it, a candle illuminating book pages as worried thoughts sparked in her mind beneath a sliver of moonlight.

Now, there is nothing. No candle, no moon, no book to keep her calm, tell her she is safe. She is adrift in a black sea, nothing to reach for, no one to help her, and those monsters beneath the surface are closing in, sharp claws coming to devour her. She would scream for help, but with Vanessa gone, who would listen? 

Sweat beads at her forehead and her teeth chatter, legs quivering like jelly. She screws her eyes shut so the monsters can’t get her. She wishes she was somewhere else, she wishes she could sleep again. She wishes Vanessa was here with her, and the wish only causes more tears. 

A few minutes later, she receives her wish of sleep, but not the one of Vanessa. 

\---

“Brooke? Honey, are you awake?”

Brooke blinks a few times before the room stops spinning. There’s a cool cloth on her forehead and morning sun glowing against the walls, keeping the monsters out. 

“N-Nina?” she croaks. 

“I’m here, sweetie,” Nina reassures her, and Brooke still isn’t sure what happened but she knows at least she’s safe with Nina here. 

“What happened, where’s Vanessa?” Brooke groans as she tries to sit up, arms flailing. Nina takes her shoulder and eases her back down. 

“Your fever just broke, you have to take it easy,” she urges, bringing a glass to Brooke’s mouth. “Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”

Brooke forces down a sip, cooling her throat. “Where is she?”

All the color drains from Nina’s face. 

“Nina?” Brooke’s voice cracks. 

Nina sighs and removes the cloth, plunking it into a bowl of water. “How much do you remember?”

Brooke struggles for pieces of memory, like trying to recover the shards of a shattered glass. She remembers saying her vows and Vanessa landing on top of her. She remembers Nina lowering her into bed, holding her hand as she thrashed around to stamp out the fire in her veins. She remembers drinking something the castle medic held to her lips, swallowing as it instantly sapped the fight from her and forced her eyes closed.

“I was...shot with an arrow?” That explains the hole in her chest. “And Vanessa...she-she saved me, didn’t she?” Brooke looks at Nina helplessly. 

“She did,” Nina confirms. “She figured out what was happening and tried to get to you before the arrow could. It hit her arm, and that sent it off-course so it missed your heart. The arrow was poisoned, but the medic got you both the antidote in time.”

Brooke can tell there’s more, and she searches desperately for what happened. She remembers the gleam of a dagger… “Thomas!” she bursts out. “He was--he--”

“Shhh,” Nina soothes, a hand on Brooke’s shoulder to calm her the way she’s done for years. But it’s not working, not when Vanessa…

“Vanessa’s all right,” Nina continues. “He...it was awful, Brooke.” Nina shakes her head, tears in her eyes. 

Brooke lies in stunned silence, body growing colder by the second, as Nina tells her how Thomas had hired a man to kill her so he could take the throne, how Vanessa had figured it out, how Thomas was so enraged when she foiled his plans that he stabbed her in the chest, Vanessa landing a punch that broke his nose (Brooke smiles despite her worry) before the guards seized him and Nina got both girls to safety. Thomas and the marksman he’d hired would be going to prison far north for life, but Brooke can’t let herself be relieved. Not when Vanessa is hurt. 

“Vanessa’s still asleep. The poison weakened her, and she lost a lot of blood.” Nina keeps her voice steady and even and it keeps Brooke from falling apart completely. Vanessa is hurt because of _her_. This is all Brooke’s fault.

“Can I see her?” Brooke begs. All the anger and sorrow and worry is clouding her vision, and she knows it won’t clear until she sees Vanessa. 

Nina bites her lip. “You’re supposed to stay in bed.”

“Please? Nina, I…I...” Brooke knows she’s safe with Nina, but she can’t bring herself to say the words to someone besides Vanessa. She’s just not strong enough. 

“I know,” Nina states simply, and Brooke nods in gratitude. “You can see her, but only for a little while. You need to rest.”

Brooke nods and Nina helps her limp, sore body off the mattress. Brooke feels like a newborn deer learning to walk on too-long legs, her knees buckling after a step. Nina rushes in with an arm around her waist, holding Brooke up as they shuffle across the hall. 

Vanessa is asleep, and though she’s always been small, this is the first time she’s truly looked it. Even with her frailness, some part of Brooke relaxes, breathes easier as she crosses the room, because Vanessa is alive and the clouds part and there is hope again. 

There’s two chairs by the bed, two empty mugs on the bedside table. Vanessa’s parents must have been here. Brooke realizes with a jolt that she hasn’t even wondered about her own parents. She’s positive they haven’t been watching over her as she slept, not that she expected them to. She wonders what it’s like to have parents like Vanessa’s. 

Nina aids her into a chair and leaves with a knowing smile. Brooke squeezes Vanessa’s hand as tight as she can, rubbing her thumb over Vanessa’s knuckles, memorizing each inch of smooth skin, making sure Vanessa is really there. 

Brooke is crying _again_, Vanessa’s limp body finally breaking whatever is keeping Brooke together. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to Vanessa, voice thick with tears. “I love you so much, please wake up. Please don’t leave me. I love you.” She doesn’t care how selfish and needy she’s being, doesn’t care about anything but Vanessa’s hand in hers. Tears of a life she dreams of but will probably never have run down her cheeks like rivers. What if she can have it? What if she—Brooke’s heart begins to race—what if she stands up to her father and tells him she won’t marry anyone but Vanessa? 

Brooke’s thoughts take off, a carriage running down a mountain. She doubts she’ll make it through the year before they find her a new engagement, so what if she makes her own? She can see the trouble for her and Vanessa if she confesses her love; forced into marriages and everything glossed over if they were lucky and much worse if they weren’t. 

But Vanessa had risked her life to save Brooke. Vanessa is so brave and strong, and maybe if Brooke was more like her, she’d be able to stand up for herself. Maybe if Brooke was more like her, she would be able to cry without shame and love Vanessa without fear. Maybe she would have never married Thomas in the first place. Maybe this really is all her fault. 

Is the way she feels toward Vanessa her fault too? Each part of Brooke’s life is under careful control, but this isn’t within her power; her love for Vanessa is a fire left to burn unchecked, impossible to tame. But is it unacceptable behavior? There’s no official law against it--Brooke would know, making such fast progress in her studies she was permitted to learn laws after she turned ten, her desire to spend summer feeding the ducks waddling through the courtyard all but stamped out. 

There’s no law, but Brooke knows what happened to Scarlet, can guess what happened to many nameless others. Does that make it wrong? Does that make _her_ wrong? How could love be wrong? No, there’s nothing wrong with her. Vanessa said she was wonderful the way she is, and Brooke wants to listen. She vows to listen. 

The thought of returning to her life without Vanessa stings worse than the fresh arrow wound. How, when she has kissed Vanessa and shared such freedom and passion with her, can she ever go back to her perfect, controlled life? When she has seen the northern snow through Vanessa’s eyes, surveyed the brilliant blue sea and run in flowery meadows through Vanessa’s words, how can studying inside the dull gray walls of her room be enough? Who, when met with sweet freedom, would possibly go back to their cell? 

She has no idea what this will cost her, what her parents will do. She can’t answer those questions, but Vanessa is the answer to every question Brooke’s heart has ever asked, and she knows what she has to do. 

If being a perfect princess means living without Vanessa, she doesn’t want it. 

The door creaking breaks her focus, Nina entering with an apologetic smile. “You need to sleep, honey.”

But Brooke can’t sleep, can’t even risk closing her eyes, because what if this is all a dream and Vanessa will be gone when she wakes up?

“Can I stay in Vanessa’s bed? Please? I can’t leave her.”

Nina softens. She has a hard time denying Brooke anything, and wordlessly guides Brooke into the other side of the bed. “I don’t see why not. You’ve been through enough, the both of you. Just promise me you’ll stay in bed and rest.”

“I promise.” Brooke has no desire to break it, each movement making her acutely aware of the stitches holding her chest closed. 

Nina fluffs the pillows and pulls the blanket up for her, and Brooke is hit with a surge of affection for the woman who took her outside for study breaks so she could warm up in the sunshine or feel cold snow against her legs. Nina places a gentle kiss on Brooke’s forehead and Brooke squeezes Nina’s arm in thanks. 

Nina gone, Brooke turns her head to Vanessa, that same safety from their first night together washing over her. She’s here, with Vanessa, and Brooke finds herself drifting off despite her fear that she’ll never see Vanessa again.

\---

“Brooke.”

Brooke groans. 

“Brooke.”

She fights through her haze, her clear thoughts victoriously settling on Vanessa. 

“Hi,” Vanessa whispers. Some of her color has returned and her teeth shine in a smile. 

“Hi.” Brooke smiles back, and she doesn’t think hugging is a good idea for either of them, so she grips Vanessa’s hand and hopes it carries her love. 

“Hell of a wedding, huh?” Vanessa’s voice is gravelly, but her joke makes Brooke laugh despite the ache, and she knows everything is fine. Until she remembers why Vanessa is hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Brooke says. 

“For what?” 

“You got hurt because of _me_. It’s all my fault.” Her thoughts spiral and her breathing speeds up, sending tiny shards of pain through her chest. 

“Brooke, no,” Vanessa breathes. “You didn’t make me get hurt. Thomas did. It’s not your fault.”

“But I should have known!” Brooke argues. “He went after you because of me!” How could she have missed it? She knew Thomas hated her, that she was just his way of getting more power, but she never pictured him capable of this. How could she have willingly married a man that plotted to kill her? How can she ever forgive herself for getting Vanessa hurt? 

“Brooke, listen to me.” Vanessa turns with a wince, hand stroking Brooke’s hair. “You couldn’t have known. He’s a horrible person, but that is _not_ your fault.”

Vanessa’s hand is slow and delicate as it weaves through Brooke’s waves, and she finds her panic fading, fought away by Vanessa’s words. They’re both safe now.

“You have no idea how happy I am I got to punch Thomas,” Vanessa says triumphantly. “I would have done more but I was bleeding all over and my parents carried me out of there.”

“Is that how we got back here?” Brooke asks, wishing she could have gone a round with Thomas too. 

“Yes. My parents carried me and Nina--she was like a damn knight,” Vanessa giggles. “She got the medic while your parents dealt with Thomas and carried you here herself. That’s all I remember before I passed out.”

Again Brooke’s heart fills with love for Nina, smirking as she pictures Nina in a suit of armor. “Vanessa, once we’re well enough, I’m going to ask to meet with our parents. And I’m...I’m going to tell them I love you.”

Vanessa stares at her with wide eyes. “Brooke, are you sure you want to do this? This could mean a lot of trouble for both of us.” But her expression is one of desperate hope, of a dream she dared to dream that might somehow come true. 

“I think love is worth a little trouble, don’t you?” 

Vanessa answers her with a kiss. 

\---

Brooke and Vanessa spend two more days in bed, reviewing plans for the meeting in between naps, Nina bringing toast and tea when their stomachs could handle it. 

The medic replaces Brooke’s bandages, the black stitches angry against her pale skin. She really is lucky she survived, and it’s all because of Vanessa. If that arrow hit its target or punctured a lung, there would have been no saving her, and Brooke lets this hold her head high even as her stomach tosses and turns while she prepares for the meeting. 

“Plastique, I’d like to wear my blue dress, please,” Brooke says. The pale blue with tiny white snowflakes is her favorite, but Thomas hated it and she had to keep him happy. Now, her own happiness comes first, and it’s jarring, wearing what she wants without having to consider someone else.

Plastique nods and helps her into it, careful around the bandages. She lets Vanessa in and exits the room. 

“Got a surprise for you,” Vanessa announces. Henry and Apollo scurry in after her, pawing at Brooke’s legs. 

Brooke crouches down and runs her fingers through their fur, tongues slobbering over her, but she doesn’t care. The cats will get to stay with her now that Thomas is gone, and she smiles the widest grin since childhood, kissing both their noses before standing up. 

“You look pretty in blue,” Vanessa says. She’s in her favorite gold dress, sun necklace dangling happily. 

“And you look pretty in gold,” Brooke replies. 

“Are you ready to do this?” Vanessa’s tone is serious as she looks up at Brooke. 

“No,” Brooke admits. “But if I wait to be ready, I’ll be waiting forever. I love you, and I can’t go back to my life without you.”

“I’ll support you no matter what happens,” Vanessa promises. 

“Thank you.” Brooke sighs. “Maybe if I was more confident like you this would be easier. Maybe I would be better that way.” 

_Maybe if I was someone else, my father would have wanted me_, she thinks but doesn’t say. 

“No, don’t say that. I love you just the way you are, Brooke. You don’t need to be anyone but yourself,” Vanessa says, a firm hand on Brooke’s arm. “Besides, if you were like me, I think that would be a little much, don’t you?” she laughs. 

Brooke smiles. “I love you. Whatever happens.”

“I love you too. Can I have one more kiss?” Vanessa asks. 

“Of course.”

Their lips meet and it still brings Brooke’s body to life like nothing else. All her kisses with Thomas were out of duty, mandated kisses in front of nobility so they knew she was his, sometimes so forceful she drew blood biting her lip in defense. 

Vanessa’s kisses are nothing like that, soft and gentle, a soothing balm for her lips. Vanessa’s hands rest on her back, another act she is the only one to do in years, and Brooke is safe and secure in her embrace, pulsing under her touch. 

Vanessa breaks away. “One more thing,” she says, pulling Brooke’s ring from her bag. Brooke didn’t question it when she woke up without the ring, had even hoped it was lost somewhere in the commotion. She shivers, looking at it now. 

“The medic took it off you and gave it to Nina,” Vanessa explains. “I think you should burn it.”

“Burn it?”

Vanessa nods. “He did enough to you, you don’t need to be reminded of it.”

Brooke doesn’t hesitate. She tosses it in her crackling fireplace, watching the gold melt, her old life burning so her new one can be born from the ashes. 

Thomas was the worst sort of poison, one that would have slowly killed her, bit by bit, decaying every part of her until there was nothing left. Burning that ring is the strongest antidote in the world, and she feels strong enough to stand before her father and create the new life she wants. 

“I’m ready.” she declares.

\---

Brooke’s legs tremble beneath the meeting table and she’s thankful she skipped breakfast because it would have come back up by now.

Her father asks her to speak, since she called the meeting, and Brooke swallows down the thumping of her heart. Vanessa gives a quick wink across the table. She can do this. She already survived a murder attempt, a poisoned arrow that left her writhing in pain and burning with fever, so how is talking now the hardest thing in the world?

“Father, I have someone in mind for a new engagement.”

If her father is surprised at her wanting to remarry so soon, he doesn’t show it. “Very well. Name your prince, Brooke, though I have final approval, of course.”

“Not a prince,” Brooke corrects, her hands shaking, “A princess. I want to marry Princess Vanessa.”

The room is quiet enough that she hears her mother hiss in air through tightly-locked lips. Her father opens his mouth twice before anything comes out.

“Absolutely not.” He doesn’t say more, doesn’t need to. He always tells her what to do, and she always listens. He’s not expecting a fight. 

“Father, I love her,” Brooke tries again. “I love her more than anyone, and I don’t want to marry anyone else.” 

“You’re not marrying her, Brooke. I understand you’re upset after what happened with Thomas--”

“After he tried to _murder_ me, you mean?” she demands. 

Her father doesn’t blanch. “Thomas was a heinous man. Your next husband will not be, I assure you.”

“Vanessa saved my life,” Brooke says fiercely. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.”

“I am grateful to Vanessa,” her father says sincerely. “I’m glad you’ve become her friend, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be marrying her. Might I suggest Prince W--”

“I’m not marrying anyone but Vanessa!” The scream is harsh as it soars down the room, almost enough to ripple the tapestries on the wall. She has never been this loud to anyone, and certainly not to her father, whose faces reddens like flame.

“That is _enough!_ Princesses don’t--”

“Then I won’t be a princess anymore!” Brooke counters. “Would that make you happy? I know you never wanted me in the first place. That’s why you wanted me to marry Thomas so badly. So you could have a _son!_” she spits, fighting the quiver in her voice. The jumping of her stomach is getting harder to ignore. 

Her father’s face is marred by an expression she’s never seen--fear, and Brooke realizes that even after all these years for him to figure it out, he hadn’t known up until now that she had actually overheard him all those years ago.

Not that it mattered. He’d said it more than once since then, even without words.

“I marry Vanessa, or I walk away from this castle forever.” The room spins around her, her whole body trapped in a shipwreck, sweat running down her neck. She has to grip the table just to stay conscious.

Her father sighs. “I think your fever is still affecting you, Brooke. We’ll resume this when you’re feeling better. Guards, please take the princess to her room. She’s not well at the moment.”

Brooke tries to resist, but she’s still sore and dizzy and their armor outweighs her as they tear her out of her seat. The guards each seize an arm and drag her towards the door, the one on the left yanking too hard, tugging on her wound, and she whimpers in pain. She glimpses Vanessa’s mother holding Vanessa back as she fights to break free, and Brooke hopes Queen Alexis has a strong grip because she doesn’t want Vanessa getting in trouble for her. 

_“Stop!”_

The guards freeze and Brooke looks up, one word spoken so fiercely the hairs on her arms rise. She searches for the speaker, eyes settling on…_her mother?_

Her mother, who told her she couldn’t play outside because it made her dresses dirty, who stopped telling her she did a good job studying and silently agreed with her father’s insistence that she do better. 

“Stop,” her mother repeats. “Take your hands off my daughter at once. I’m the queen, and it’s time I acted like it.”

The guards release her and step back, mouths agape. Brooke’s own mouth mirrors theirs as she drops back into her chair, stomach writhing like a pit of snakes is inside it. 

Brooke’s mother turns to the king. “Do you remember the last time Brooke was happy?”

Her father remains silent. 

“I didn’t either,” her mother continues. “And it made me see how wrong I’ve been. Richard, I’ve let you push her for nineteen years. I’ve let you demand things of her that were too much to expect from someone grown, let alone from a child. I let it go all those years, but I can’t anymore.”

Brooke wonders how long it’s been since her mother’s gray eyes have had that spark. Probably as long as Brooke went without crying.

“What are you saying?” Her father’s voice is steady, betraying no emotion. Brooke learned how to hide her feelings from the best, after all. 

“I’m saying that our daughter is happier than she’s been in years, and it’s because of Vanessa. Vanessa makes Brooke _happy_, and we’ve let her happiness slide for too long.”

“You want her to--”

Her mother smiles before interrupting. “You wanted an alliance with the Mateos. What better way to create one than by having our daughter marry theirs?”

Brooke’s breath halts and she stares at her mother, certain she’s misheard. Vanessa meets her eyes with the same awestruck expression. 

“I can think of no better person for my daughter than yours,” Queen Alexis declares with a smile, and Brooke lets the desperate hope fill her even though she usually wards off any kind of hope. Maybe this could really happen. All she needs is her father…

“I would like to speak with my wife alone,” Brooke’s father states coldly, taking her mother into the hallway. 

Vanessa jumps up and runs to Brooke. “Breathe, sweetheart,” she whispers, and Brooke exhales as Vanessa rubs her back. “Both my parents are on our side, and your mother. You did so well,” she praises. She presses a kiss to Brooke’s cheek as the door opens, rushing back to her chair. 

Her father stands at the head of the table, and Brooke wishes his face wasn’t like marble so she could have some idea of what’s to come. 

He clears his throat. “I would like to announce the engagement of my daughter, Brooke Lynn Hytes, to Vanessa Isabela Mateo.”

Vanessa squeals. Brooke thinks her mother is smiling but she can’t see it, can’t see anything after Vanessa wraps her in an embrace. Brooke’s entire world is colored by dark brown waves and big brown eyes and soft, sun-kissed skin and an ear-to-ear smile. 

That pigment will always make up her world from now on.

\---

“We have to go to Honey’s candy shop first,” Vanessa insists, helping Brooke pack her trunk for the journey south. In addition to approving their marriage, Brooke’s parents had also assented to Brooke and Vanessa’s requests: that they wouldn’t get married until after Vanessa’s birthday, that they would spend summers in the south and winters in the north, and that they would be allowed to travel to all the places Vanessa had dreamed of going, all the places Brooke has only seen on paper. 

They would be going south tomorrow, and Brooke is ready to experience Vanessa’s home, what she hopes will feel like home for herself someday too. But Brooke knows for sure that wherever they are, she’ll feel at home, because Vanessa will be there and Vanessa is the only home she needs. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Brooke?” It’s her mother’s voice. Brooke doesn’t think her mother has ever been in her room, and she opens the door in confusion. 

“Yes?” Brooke asks.

“Can I talk to you outside?”

Brooke can’t remember the last real conversation she had with her mother, and she hopes this one doesn’t bring bad news. 

“I want to apologize,” her mother begins. “I should have done more for you all those years. I know we put a lot of pressure on you, and I’m sorry.” 

“I only ever wanted you to be proud of me.” Brooke’s voice cracks, as much as she doesn’t want it to. 

“I am proud of you,” her mother whispers. The words are another language when they hit the air, completely unknown to Brooke’s ears. Her mother pulls her into an uncertain hug. Brooke hasn’t been in her mother’s arms since she was five, when her father insisted she was too old. It’s stiff, nothing like the soft embraces she has with Vanessa, but it’s not entirely bad, either. 

“I’m proud of you, Brooke,” she repeats. “I’m going to try harder to show you that. Your father is, too.”

Brooke doesn’t say anything. She isn’t sure if this can make up for all the scolding she got as a child for missing a single test question, or going to the kitchen just for a warm hand on her shoulder, or the nights she stayed up until sunrise memorizing information in the hopes of impressing her father, the tears that couldn’t fall when it didn’t. But it is a start, and she lets it live at that. 

\---

The summer passes in a golden haze. 

Just like the days leading to her wedding with Thomas seemed like a countdown, so too do these, but these ones are a countdown to the rest of her life with a woman she loves rather than her demise with an evil man. 

They sample every truffle Honey has to offer, raspberry and orange and strawberry bursting in their mouths. They play fetch with Vanessa’s dog, Riley, as the cats bask in the sun. Vanessa shows her the fish and ducks in the ponds and the birds in the trees and they run through the cornfields and Vanessa laughs at finally finding something taller than Brooke. Brooke’s skin burns to a deep red walking along sun-baked cobblestones with Vanessa, but she doesn’t care. 

By the time they arrive back north for their wedding, Brooke knows she would walk through fire itself for Vanessa.

\---

The altar looms in front of Brooke as she takes her first step down the aisle. 

The chapel blooms again with blue and white flowers, flowers that had been dark and dull as Brooke forced herself to walk to Thomas, each limb requiring sweaty, breath-stealing effort to move. Her heavy heart had sunk down to her stomach, sitting like a rock.

Now, blue and white roses beam among bright yellow and orange blossoms from the south, bringing some sun to the north. Now, Vanessa waits for her at the altar, her grin so dazzling it outshines the flowers, and Brooke’s heart is so light and fluttery it might float out of her body. She has to stop herself from running to Vanessa, from running to her new life. 

Vanessa instructed Brooke to breathe when her skin itches every time people look at her, and Brooke does. They’re safe. All worries of anyone opposing the marriage fade. Brooke even enacted laws to protect her and Vanessa and others like them with the increased involvement she asked her father for. 

By the time she stands across from Vanessa, holding both her hands, Brooke is flooded by her beauty, forgetting the hundreds of eyes staring at her, surely watching for a mistake. But Vanessa reassures Brooke every night that she’ll still love her if she does make a mistake, just as Brooke reassures Vanessa that she is worthy of love, and Brooke smiles. 

Vanessa reads through her traditional vows with tears in her eyes, a mischievous gleam sparking before the end, and Brooke knows why when Vanessa begins to talk, adding her own statements to the vows. Her own personal vows to Brooke. 

“Brooke, you open my eyes to what’s around me and help me be a better person. I vow to support you through any trouble--” she gives Brooke a sly wink, and Brooke giggles, “--we might get in. I vow to support you when you’re nervous and remind you how wonderful you are. I vow to love you forever.”

Brooke lets a tear escape, knowing now that crying isn’t weakness. She returns her traditional vows, and then rushes on. If Vanessa can bend the rules, why can’t Brooke? Vanessa deserves more than the centuries-old vows she’d forced herself to say to Thomas, not meaning a word then. 

She means every word now. 

“Vanessa, you have shown me the world and taken me places I never thought I’d go. You make me a better person, and I vow to support you through any trouble we get in. I vow to support you when you’re angry and remind you you’re amazing. I vow to love you forever.”

Nina’s distinct sobs ring through the chapel as Brooke’s lips meet Vanessa’s, and Brooke smiles against the kiss. Sure enough, Nina dabs at her eyes with a tent-sized handkerchief as Brooke holds Vanessa’s hand on the way out of the chapel, wholly safe in Vanessa’s grasp, not worrying about arrows flying at them or daggers coming their way. 

And even if they did, Brooke knows she and Vanessa will survive anything. 

“Still breaking the rules right until the end,” Brooke teases.

“You broke them right back,” Vanessa retorts. “Thought you weren’t getting in trouble for me.” She bats her eyelashes. 

“Always for you,” Brooke promises. 

They’ll sleep in Brooke’s bed tonight, arms around each other, and Brooke won’t have to worry about Vanessa leaving in the morning, or about them getting in trouble. She won’t have to worry about Vanessa leaving ever again. 

Because just like their kingdoms, their hearts are united forever in love.


End file.
